


Frozen Heartbeat

by dailyandgaily



Series: Heart Cold AU [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Jeremy slid me a twenty to write this, Keith is insanely touch-deprived, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a lot of cuddling, angst x2, basically the au that literally no one asked for, because they're idiots, embracing the homosexual agenda, heart cold au, how many tags is too many, i am going to provide so much fluff your pillows will be jealous, like your dentist is literally going to hate you for reading this, not even the Lord can stop me now, you will suffer and you will love it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-04-16 16:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 61,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14168727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dailyandgaily/pseuds/dailyandgaily
Summary: When the team touches down on a stunning, tropical planet, Keith ends up catching what the natives deem a “heart cold.” To them, it’s a sacred blessing from their planet’s powerful elders. To Keith, it’s what he imagines the offspring of Hades’ and his worst nightmare would be.Under immense pressure to forge an alliance with the planet’s inhabitants, Keith is forced to deal with his new predicament in order to gain their trust. Suddenly finding himself on the brink of hypothermia all the time, he has to find what will warm him up before it’s too late. The team tries everything, desperate to help, until they discover that it’s notwhatKeith needs, but rather, a who…





	1. gimme a hand (preferably yours)

**Author's Note:**

> you might think i’m going to start this long ass fic with some eloquent speech or thoughtful comment, but nope. there’s only one thing i could say before we begin.
> 
>  _run._
> 
> this is your last chance.  
> there is no escape if u continue scrolling.  
> the oncoming gay is overwhelming, so don’t say i didn’t warn you

“Dude, what’s gotten into you?” Hunk’s words snapped Lance out of his trance. 

The planet they had landed on, Norvia, was characterized by endless ocean. The diverse inhabitants lived on a long chain of islands that had immediately caught Lance’s attention. The reflective waves crashing upon the beach hit him with nostalgia—reminiscent of Cuba. Up until now, only Coran knew how homesick he was. He planned to keep it that way. 

“I just saw a really hot girl,” Lance replied. He turned around on his heels to face his friend. Hunk rose a brow. 

“…the ocean?” asked Hunk. Lance internally cringed, hoping Hunk wouldn’t see through him more than he already had. 

“It’s a metaphor,” Lance muttered out his blatant lie. Despite Hunk’s obvious frustration in the cross of his arms he didn’t raise his voice. Rather, he opened his mouth to argue, but was promptly interrupted by their team leader. 

“Okay everyone, Allura spoke with the Nori leader—Pidge, n-don’t touch that!—Okay. Okay, so now we’re headed to talk to their elders.” 

“What? We need permission from a bunch of geriatrics to form an alliance?” Pidge perked up with a scoff. She had even stopped her prodding of the indigenous plant Shiro had scolded her for. “Why do we want the Nori as an ally again?” Shiro shot her a reproachful look. 

“We’re here to save the _entire_ universe,” he said. “Including the people we hate.” 

“Is that why you let Slav live?” she asked with a grin. Shiro flinched, but his gaze only hardened afterwards. With a pointed glare, he directed the paladins to follow him. 

Lance was more than content with their long walk across the beach. It let him take in the planet around him as he held back, allowing Allura and Shiro talk to the Nori guide in peace. Normally, Lance wouldn’t shut up when they visited new planets, constantly excited to interact with new races. Today was different. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the royal palms scattering the coastline, from the shocking clarity of the all-encompassing water, or from the familiar granular texture under his boots. 

“Hey…”

Caught up in his own daydream, Lance hadn’t even noticed Keith slowing down to match his pace. The duo were a decent couple feet behind the rest of the group, but thankfully, it seemed only one person had noticed. _Of course it’s him. Now he’s gonna get all judgey about how I’m ‘not focusing on the mission.’_

“Are you okay?” asked Keith. Without a doubt that question made double back. 

Lance was hardly accustomed with getting asked how he was doing—especially when it came to Keith. Yet here the red paladin was, walking in tandem beside him and giving him a concerned look. It was bizarre to see such a considerate expression. That’s why it only made sense for Lance to stare a little longer than usual. It wasn’t because he _wanted_ to or anything, with the way those uncharacteristically soft eyes watched him with clear intent and that cute—

 _Okay! That’s enough now brain!_ Lance internally screeched at his mind. _Please, please be quiet!_

“Just peachy,” Lance said, his voice coming out unexpectedly even. Keith paused, visibly hesitating, before letting out a sigh. 

“ _Lance…_ ” 

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” he snapped. “I’m fine, and I’m _more_ than capable of handling this mission. I bet I’m even more capable than you, so there’s no need to patronize me.” Keith nearly threw his hands up in the air, halting halfway to groan. 

“I wasn’t—!” 

Once again, he was saved from an unwanted conversation when the guide spoke up. Despite the duo being a decent distance away, the guide spoke loud enough for the whole team to hear. Lance couldn’t be more grateful to get away from the words that made his throat dry. He eagerly caught up with everyone else. 

“—they await inside,” the guide finished. Before walking away, they made a quick gesture behind them to the entrance of a cavern. 

Lance found his eyes straying to the sea again, compromising his focus. Off to the side of him, the rest of the team prepared to enter the cave. He tuned out their conversation, closing his eyes to concentrate on the sound of the waves pelting the sand. A semblance of peace and nostalgia washed over him, the bright sun warming his upturned face. He broke out into a broad smile—just before he was pulled right back. 

“Okay, team, a few more things before we go,” said Shiro. “Hunk, smile as much as possible so they’ll like us more, Keith… try not to fight anyone, Pidge, please only ask the most pressing questions, and Lance… Lance?” With a subdued sigh, he opened his eyes and looked over at Shiro. The entire team and the princess was watching him now, each wearing various levels of confusion and worry. 

“Guys, you are going into a dark, _damp_ cave filled with weird old people. I _just_ did my hair this morning! I don’t want frizzy hair,” Lance told them in an exaggerated huff. “So, no thank you, I’m staying out here.” 

“You don’t get to opt out because you don’t feel like it,” Keith rolled his eyes. 

It bothered him that Keith didn’t understand—that none of them did. Albeit it didn’t surprise him, it hurt that no one else seemed to miss Earth as much as he did. Shiro was always hyper-focused on the mission, Pidge had found her brother and father, Hunk was optimistic about returning home, and even Keith seemed unfazed. That left Allura. Even though Allura was kind to him, he wasn’t sure if they were close enough to talk about being separated from their home. He guessed his intermittent flirting wasn’t helping either. 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” retorted Lance. “It’s not like I’m missing out on anything important anyway.” He could tell Keith was getting testy but refused to back down. The longer he was on this beach, the better. 

“If he’s backing out then so am I,” Pidge butted in. “I want to look at more of this planet’s vegetation. It’s insane.” She shot him a rare, supportive smile. 

“See!” said Lance. “It’s no big deal.” 

His last statement seemed to be the last straw for Keith. He stepped forward, his brows drawing together in anger. Lance steeled himself, his fists clenching; this wouldn’t end well. Shiro side eyed him, clearly concerned, but didn’t interfere yet. Hopefully, the situation wouldn’t escalate, so Shiro wouldn’t have to.

Lance was mistaken. 

“You don’t just get to leave,” Keith seethed, his voice rising. “The mission is more important than your petty feelings, Lance!” The air tightened around him, pressing down on his chest, and subsequently, his heart. Neither gets a chance to respond to his comment however, as a tight hand came down on Keith’s shoulder. 

“Lance, you can stay out here,” said Shiro. With a weak, appreciative nod to him, Lance turned away, once again grateful to get away from Keith. In any other situation, witnessing Keith gaping like a fish on dry land would have amused him. This time, though, it only hurt more. 

He kept his back turned as the rest of the gang entered the cave.

———

_Fuuuuuuucccccck._

The moment the words had left his mouth, Keith regretted all his life decisions up until this moment. He could see the instant drop in Lance’s demeanor and could practically sense Shiro’s disappointment behind him. Keith wanted to fall back, to apologize, to _explain_ he was self-projecting, but knew the last thing Lance wanted was to see his face. 

His anger had gotten the best of him. When he had worried over Lance, he never expected him to act so defensively. _Was it so wrong of me to care?_ Keith frowned at the stone beneath him. He held his head down low, absentmindedly following Shiro. 

Then he told Lance his feelings weren’t important. 

The reality was quite the opposite—especially to Keith. His heart hurt because of how much he cared sometimes, and he gave up long ago lying to himself about how much he wishes he and Lance could get along. He hated that he didn’t know how to communicate, particularly when it came to Lance. 

Keith was so absorbed in his guilt he barely noticed they had reached the furthest end of the cave. The compact walls opened up into an expansive space with the ceiling moving upward to form a dome. Trickling water could be heard, and all torchlight was replaced by the shimmering, bioluminescent pool of water in the center of the cave. On the opposite side of the pool from where the team stood sat three cloaked figures. Four cushions lined the outer edge of the pool’s shoreline, only three of which occupied by an elder. Everyone, except a distracted Keith, took notice. 

_I have to apologize._

Keith finally looks up from the glossy stone under his feet, giving the elders a cursory glance before looking to Shiro. For a moment, he’s tempted to nudge his longtime friend. Then his common sense kicked in. He knew Shiro would want him to stay, and he didn’t want to take that risk. Knowing no one was paying attention to him anyway, he snuck away as the discussion of an alliance begun. 

The moment Keith stepped out onto the beach, he immediately went to stare at Lance. He stood with a small smile directed at the ocean stretched out before him, the setting sun reaching down towards the horizon. Lance seemed to be lost in his own world—or, rather, the similarity of this world to Earth. It was now that Keith realized why he wanted to stay outside so badly. What neither Keith nor Lance realized, however, was that this entire situation was predicted by the elders. There was, in fact, no missing fourth elder. Rather, there was one purposefully watching from the shadows as their prophecy unfolded. 

As Keith slowly made his way to him, he took in the calm composure that had overtaken the blue paladin. Though there was no doubt Lance was gorgeous after an exhaustive battle or laughing so hard he had to clutch his stomach, but the way he looked right now stole his breath away. 

_Because that’s totally normal,_ Keith told himself, scoffing at himself. Regrettably, someone else seemed to hear him. 

“What?” Lance asked, voice flat. “Back again to mock my humanity?” 

It didn’t matter whether the anger that arose in his stomach was because Lance truly believed Keith didn’t care or because Keith couldn’t explain why he did care. He knew what mattered now was his apology. So, he decided to just say it flat-out. 

“I’m sorry,” he spoke quickly but earnestly. “It’s just I didn’t understand—I don’t really get homesick. So I guess I’m not really used to putting my emotions before what I need to do.” Lance turned away from the glimmering sea to face him, surprised. The expression didn’t last, however, as he immediately opted for a jeering look.

“Unless your anger gets you all fired up and you lash out,” Lance joked. 

He chose not to respond because, though he didn’t want to say so, Lance was totally right. Then she appeared. A little girl had come from the shadows, unbeknownst to the two paladins. Her body was hidden underneath an oversized cloak that trailed behind her along the sand. Only her impossibly dark eyes could be seen. She moved quietly across the beach, not speaking until she reached Keith’s side. 

“Lance and Keith,” she said, her voice poised and kind, “a pleasure.” The two startle, Lance nearly falling backwards into the oncoming waves. 

“Who are _you_?” Lance shouted. The girl gave a polite laugh, shaking her head. 

“I’m the fourth elder, silly.” 

“Aren’t elders supposed to be… elder?” asked Lance. The girl appeared to bristle at that, though it was difficult to tell with the cloak covering. 

“I’m three thousand, eight hundred, and _a half_ years old,” she explained. The elder clearly enjoyed putting emphasis on the half. The boys, unable to respond, waited for her to continue. 

“Your arrival had been foretold centuries ago. We know you have come here to protect us, but first, there is much you have to learn before you may do so. Let alone protect the entire universe,” the girl told them. An unusually large wave hit the shore, and water lapped the back of Keith’s heels. It was as if the ocean was reaching out to the elder, elated by her sudden arrival. 

“Did you seriously just come out here to tell us we’re not ready to help you?” Keith asked, slightly peeved. It bothered him that the elders found them incapable, especially after everything they had been through as Team Voltron. Thus, as per usual, he lashed out. 

“How do we even know _you’re_ actually an elder?” he prodded. “Aren’t all the elders inside?” The girl tutted him with a small smile. 

“It’s time,” she said with a hushed voice. Without any further prompting or elaboration, she put out her hand in front of them, her hand facing towards the sky. As nothing happened, the two looked at one another, then back to the elder. Lance spoke up. 

“Okay, I’m sorry, am I missing something because—“ 

All of a sudden her eyes clamped shut. Completely in sync with the movement, a scintillating bolt of lightning came down from above, striking her palm. Lance shrieked and Keith stumbled backwards. When she opened her eyes, they’re supercharged, no longer dark but none blue—almost like ice. Her piercing gaze landed on Keith. 

“I wish you luck,” she said. Her face was devoid of a smile, but her comment was not unkind. “Come back to us when the time comes. You will know when.” 

With impossible speed, a charred black hand reached out from within her cloak’s sleeve. There was no time to react; the elder grabbed Keith’s wrist. Immediately, all returned to normal, the sky calm and at rest, and the elder retracted her hand. Keith crumpled to the sandy beach floor.

“The fuck!” Lance yelled. “ _Keith._ ”

Lance promptly dropped down on his knees, all his attention engaged in the situation. He went to check Keith, hastily tugging off his helmet and scanning his face. His hands trailed pale skin, finding nothing of significance. Looking up, Lance found the spot the elder stood startling empty.

———

Pidge knew something was up. The missing spot from the elders’ four seat cushions was not information lost on her. Considering how crucial this meeting was, it made no sense for one of the elders to conveniently take a day off. Shiro spoke purely of the alliance before the elders hushed him.

“You. Curious nature one,” spoke the elder on the right. “You have questions.” 

“But shall we answer the precocious child?” another whispered, though loud enough for the visitors to hear. Pidge stepped up without an iota of hesitation. This was a clear challenge, and it was one she intended to win. 

_I don’t care if these old hags are_ important _old hags, I’m getting what I want._

“Who’s missing?” she asked. 

“Whatever do you mean?” the first elder to speak hummed. 

“Four seats. Three sitting elders,” Pidge explained. “Where did your fourth elder go?” 

All the elders are quiet for a moment, then one of them starts to smile. It’s jarring; as all of them wear cloaks, it’s nearly impossible to make out any facial features. That didn’t seem to be the case with this elder’s wide, intimidating smile. They all begin laughing, and Pidge believed it was safe to say everyone was exceptionally creeped out. Their laughs echoed off the cave walls, surrounding the crew. Then, as if their point had been made, they halt, completely in sync as they do. 

“Did you hear that?” an elder asked.

 _Enough of this shady shit._ Before she could act on the thought, however, Hunk beat her to it. 

“The creepy laughter?” he asked. “Sure, we heard it. Kinda hard _not_ to.” 

Up to this point, Pidge noticed only two elders had spoken. The third elder, in the center, has been oddly quiet, staring at the pond. Albeit this elder had been the one to smirk and joined in the laughter, it did nothing more. Until now. 

“You should go outside,” the third elder said. “Come back when it is time, and you are all ready for the war against the Galra. Then, and only then, will we form an alliance.” Now, everyone feels it. Something is very, _very_ wrong. Shiro is the first one who spots it. 

“Where’s Keith?” asked Shiro. The first elder spoke up in ominous reply. 

“Where he belongs. With the blue paladin.” 

“Uh, well, I mean…” Pidge began, unease creeping in. “I ship them as much as the rest of you but… this isn’t the way.” She laughed awkwardly, but the elders said nothing. Shiro, being the team leader, immediately went into what Pidge and Hunk called super stoic, space daddy mode.

“Where are they?” said Shiro. It was not a question but a demand. 

“We already told you,” the second elder answers. “You should go outside.” That’s when the crew all locks eyes with one another. It’s Takashi who decides it. 

“Let’s go.”

———

Lance was panicking. Not knowing what else to do, he held Keith close to his chest, running a hand through Keith’s dark hair. His tunnel vision caused him to totally disregard the rest of the team’s appearance. A recap of the recent events fell from mouth against his own volition, only able to focus on Keith’s inexplicably calm face. It frustrated Lance that Pidge ascertained the situation before he could.

“She was the fourth elder,” she said. “They set us up.” 

“But why?” Hunk asked. “What did they even do to him? What do they want from us?” Shiro moved forward, breaking up the discussion. 

“That’s not important right now. We need to get Keith back to a pod.”

Lance offered to carry Keith, but eventually gave in to Hunk’s request, allowing his friend to carry him instead. Hunk believed he was still in shock as well as more than a bit disorientated, despite Lance’s pleas that this wasn’t the case. 

The trip back was a hazy blur. Rushing back to their lions, Lance finds himself forced to separate from Keith to pilot Blue. Everyone splits off, Allura going with Shiro to Black, Pidge going to Green, and Hunk taking an unconscious Keith to Yellow. The entire way back was hell. It was a short trip, really, as the palace was stationed outside Norvia’s atmosphere, just far enough not to be caught by the planet’s gravitational pull. Despite this, Lance constantly asks over the comms if Keith is okay and if Hunk is adequately watching over him. 

“Hunk, you’re piloting an _entire_ lion and he isn’t strapped down that’s dangerous—“

“Dude… trust me,” Hunk said with care, clearly not sharing his friend’s dread. “I can handle this. Okay?” 

Though Hunk’s reassurances calm him down a bit, he’s still worried. He _knows_ he can trust Hunk but he can’t help but feel like something had taken a turn for the worse. Even when the team docks their lions and head to the pods, Lance finds himself hovering. 

Allura explained the situation to Matt as the rest followed Hunk to the pods. Coran was already waiting there and helped Hunk position Keith in the pod. Hunk also made a conscious effort to tug off all of his armor, leaving Keith in his black, elastic under-suit before stepping away. The team was organized chaos. Pidge maneuvered past the team to reach the biometrics system, intently analyzing the screen in silence. In the meantime, Hunk went to place a supportive hand on Lance’s shoulder, who was staring at the pod. Lance just felt incredibly _anxious._ It felt so wrong. Something wasn’t right. 

“I think she did something horrible to him,” he whispered to Hunk. It didn’t click with his friend. 

“He’s fine, he’s a tough dude. A little lightning isn’t going to keep him down for long,” Hunk said. His grip on Lance’s shoulder tightened. “Didn’t he like, survive in the desert? Alone? For a year?” Lance nods, but he’s still bothered that no one else seemed to feel the same. Pidge joined the moment with a less than heartwarming announcement. 

“Guys,” she said. “Guys, something’s very wrong.” By now Matt has been completely caught up with the situation, and everyone has piled into the room. 

“What is it?” asked Allura, positioning herself between a hunched-over Pidge and Coran. The latter wears a blatantly confused expression, and ends up speaking before Pidge can answer. 

“I don’t understand, the pods always work. Why aren’t they fixing the problem?” Coran wondered aloud. An foreboding feel settled on the room—one that only Pidge dared break. 

“He’s freezing,” Pidge explained, deathly quietly. Everyone is crowding around the pod now, muttering to themselves and among each other, the overall mood being lost. Lance shifts his gaze to the red paladin. 

_He_ is _freezing._

His skin was pale—paler than usual. There was no color in his cheeks, as if the Nori elder had a vampiric effect on his body. His lips had a dark, nearly purplish tint. Lance was so absorbed in Keith’s physical appearance he didn’t notice everyone talking over one another until Allura began shouting. 

“ _Paladins!_ ” the princess called out, then paused. “…and Coran!” 

“And Matt…” Matt added himself, mumbling from the sidelines. Allura sighed, but gave him an acknowledging nod before continuing. 

“Now that we have some quiet, Coran. Tell me. Why isn’t the pod working?” she asked. The entire room seems to shift to watch Coran frown. To Lance, it’s a peculiar look on him, as he’s usually bringing everyone up. His constant optimism was something Lance could only pretend to emulate. 

“I don’t know, princess,” he answered with blunt honesty. “They’re supposed to be fixing the source of the problem.” 

“Maybe the center of the problem isn’t in Keith?” Pidge offered, cutting in. 

“You mean external factors?” supplied Allura. When Pidge nods, she goes on. “Like a virus or bug?” Her next suggestion doesn’t resonate with Pidge as effectively and she frowns. 

“I was thinking more from all the volts of electricity that went through his body?” 

“Electricity makes humans freeze?” Allura asked, both awed and horrified. The statement brings out a bout of doubt from Pidge. 

“Well… no…” she admitted. Coran stepped away from the monitor, interrupting the girls’ conversation. 

“We need to get him out. The pod isn’t much of a help,” Coran said. “Maybe we can figured out what’s wrong if we let him out.” 

“Wasn’t he unconscious when he came in?” asked Matt from across the pod. 

“He shouldn’t be now,” Coran replied absentmindedly, tapping away at something on the display terminal. “For what’s it worth, the pod did fix one thing.” In silent unison, they agree, all waiting in anticipation for the pod to open. 

The moment the hissing of the opening pod can be heard, Lance is pressing forward. He wanted to reach out, he wanted to grab onto Keith and hold him, and most of all—Lance wanted to make sure he was okay. Then Shiro steps in the way and catches him. Lance instinctively moves to snap at Shiro, but knows better and holds back. 

Keith was nestled in Shiro’s arms and had his head turned to the side. When he first opened his eyes, he looked dead at Lance. It’s a look that sends chills down his spine. Keith’s groggy and all his features droop. It’s nothing like his usual fierce and taunting glares. Even so, the state Keith is in now paralyzed him more than any other dirty look he had received from the red paladin. Lance was scared.

———

The first thing that registered in Keith’s mind was the cold. His eyes were still closed when he tumbled forward, hearing mechanical hissing from behind him. The next thing he noticed was a worryingly wide pair of blue eyes. His vision was still foggy, but it didn’t matter. That color only existed in one place. _Lance._ Shiro cleared his throat but his attention stayed on Lance. 

“Keith?” asked Shiro. “Keith, how do you feel?” 

“Cold,” he replied in a hushed quiet, staring at Lance. Keith was blinking slowly, not knowing why his body was moving so slowly. He was so cold even his heart felt frozen over—even though he knew it was a ridiculous thought. 

“It’s most likely hypothermia,” Pidge intervened. “But how?” Keith lifted his arms and pushed against Shiro’s chest so he could stand by himself. He rolled his head back to look up at his longtime friend. Then Keith proceeded to start shivering. 

“I’m cold,” he repeated. “Guys, why am I cold? What happened?” To Keith, he feels like his world has just been immersed in a cold, ice bath. 

“What do you remember?” Keith turned to face Lance, belatedly realizing he had been the one to ask. Every other part of Keith was still groggy, but his emory was clear as day. 

“I came back to apologize to you… then there was the girl, and she-she… electrocuted me? With lightning?” asked Keith, frowning at himself. “How did she do that?” 

“Dude,” Lance huffed with a weak smile. “I’ve got no clue.” 

Then it hit him. 

“Wait,” he said. Everyone stopped at Keith’s word. “Am I the only one freezing?” 

“Uh, that we know of? Yeah,” said Hunk. “We don’t think there’s any other victims. Why?” Keith is calculating, his gaze locked onto the leader of Voltron. 

“Then why is Shiro cold too?” he asked. The entire room goes dead silent, until Pidge made a small gasp. 

“Wait, no,” she muttered. “No, no, no. Keith, are you sure?” Keith reached out without a word to grab Shiro’s forearm—the one that isn’t made completely out of alien metal tech that is. 

“I… I don’t understand, why are you cold?” Keith questioned, getting more and more confused. Pidge could be heard cursing under her breath. 

“The only way we can hold off whatever this weird variation of hypothermia is, is through heat,” she explained, bringing her hand up to her chin. “So body heat is out.” Matt immediately perks up, sidling up beside his little sister with sudden enthusiasm. 

“Then we’ll just have to find something else that heats him up,” he said. “Lucky for you, I’ve been working on a portable heater the past few days. Hunk helped, actually.” 

His words ignited a domino effect, where once Matt and Hunk paired off to retrieve the heater, the others came up with ideas of their own. Coran was the next, opting to scour the castle for as many blankets as he could find. Everyone else followed after that. Pidge went to the kitchen to bring back warm beverages, and Allura goes to see if she can find any information in the archives about Keith’s hypothermia. Shiro and Lance, in the meantime, stuck with Keith. As Shiro stayed beside Keith, Lance stood as far away as possible. 

_Figures,_ Keith scoffs to himself. 

It didn’t take long before everyone else returned, and it took even less time before everyone came to realize nothing worked. They’re panicking now. At Pidge’s proposal, everyone resorts to offering Keith their hand, testing a theory. Sadly, the lack of body heat was consistent with all of them. 

Or at least, it _would_ be. 

If Lance would actually follow along with everyone else. 

“I just don’t see the point,” Lance argued. “It’s obviously not working. We need another alternative.” He pauses to cross his arms over his chest before continuing. “And I want to avoid contact with mullet-for-a-brain as much as possible.” Keith could only roll his eyes. 

“Not like whatever cursed me would make _you_ the solution. They’d know you’d probably let me die,” he retorted. His comment gets to Lance. That brought Keith the only sense of satisfaction he’d felt since he had woken up. 

“I—are you serious? For the record, I save your sorry ass _all_ the time,” Lance said. Keith snorted at that, but it failed to dissuade him. “I just know this isn’t gonna work. I don’t want you to die, Keith—even though you _are_ a complete jerk.” 

Keith got up. His hands were already clenched into tight fists, and Shiro was positioned too far away to have a chance at stopping him. Keith punched Lance. He doesn’t want to injure Lance, he’s just ticked off. _Can’t Lance_ see _how bad the situation is? How can he be so unwilling to try?_ So he punched him in the face, but purposefully fit him in the fleshy part of his cheek, right beneath his cheekbone. He knows it’ll cushion his punch better than bone. Lance, obviously not expecting such a quick and aggressive response, doubles backwards. With a loud and audible ‘ow,’ he’s glaring at Keith, raising his own fists. 

But Keith is frozen in place. 

“Wait.” 

Both of the boys would have expected the word to have come from Allura, or Shiro, or even Coran. Anyone who would want to break up the fight, but not from Keith. Once again, Lance was caught off guard. But through Keith’s shock, it took him longer to process this sudden realization. So, Lance took it upon himself to begin shouting. 

“Seriously?” he yelled with sincere effort. Lance’s fists relaxed though, instead pawing at his own face. “You _punch me in the face_ then ask me to wait. Wait for what? _For you to throw another punch?_ ” Then, out of nowhere, Keith slams the palm of his hand against Lance’s chest. By now, everyone close enough rushed to pull the two apart. Shiro even tried to pull Keith, away, but then he’s the one shouting. 

“ _Wait!_ ” Keith repeated. He’s gaping at Lance, utterly in awe. “How are you doing that?” Lance choked at the gesture, because Keith has his hand on his chest and suddenly he’s having a hard time breathing and—

“Do-doing what?” asked Lance, tripping over his words. Keith didn’t notice. 

“Being warm,” he said. No one spoke, just stared, waiting for someone else to do something. Then, Lance gets it. 

“This… this is a joke, isn’t it?” Lance asked. Before Keith could deny his claim, he was reaching up to pull Keith’s hand away. A teasing smile looked down at Keith. “Nice try, Kogane. You actually did get me there for a second.” Keith was shaking his head, desperate to stop him in his tracks. 

“Wait, no, Lance, seriously—“

“But it sucks I can’t help. I’m sure Pidge and Allura can do something, they know a lot about… a lot. So,” Lance trailed off. The boy almost turns before stopping to hesitate. “Uh, this probably won’t help, but here.” Lance shrugged off his jacket, handing it over to Keith. 

“It’s the thought that counts, right?” said Lance. 

Keith took it with a resigned sigh, his fingers skimming Lance’s. It hit him with a short wave of warmth that was reminiscent of walking home after an entire day in the snow. He felt so unprotected when he pulled his hand away, nearly cringing at the uncomfortable feeling of the cold. He wanted to stop Lance, to assure him of the truth, but he doesn’t speak. Even if Lance knew the truth, he wouldn’t help him. Staying true to character, Lance leaves the room to escape any bonding with Keith. 

_I cradled him when he needed me, and he doesn’t address it. Now I need him, and he won’t spare me a glance. Surprise, surprise._

“Keith,” Allura said, voice soft, “forgive me for asking but, were you serious? I don’t doubt you, but we have to k—“

“Yes,” Keith admitted without hesitancy. There’s an uncomfortable gap between his response and the next. Hunk is kind enough to save Keith from suggesting a solution. 

“Okay, so now that we confirmed that,” said Hunk, giving Pidge an indicative look. “I’ll go talk to Lance.” Pidge got the hint, stepping up beside Hunk. Keith watched them in disbelief. 

“I’m coming with,” she added. “If he’s seriously the only way we can slow down this weird ass curse—“

“Language!” Shiro scolded, but Pidge ignores him. 

“—then it’s a matter of life and death. I can about Lance, but his convenience isn’t more important than Keith’s life by a _long_ shot.” Keith would have liked to say his heart warmed at the sentiment, but it really wasn’t the case. His heart felt colder than ever before.

———

Lance had walked so fast he had reached the observatory all the way across the castle. He’s sitting criss-cross on the floor, staring up through the reinforced glass of the ship. His finds friend him within minutes, but not before he has time alone to freak out. Deep down, he knows he’s Keith’s only option, and that he’s going to help him no matter what, but constant contact with Keith to keep him warm? What did that even mean? It made his head and his heart pound in tandem at the thought. 

He was tempted to begin pacing when his friends show up, and he’s insanely grateful. He’s desperately in need of their support. Before they say anything, they take a seat on the floor, sitting on either side of him. Lance doesn’t give them the chance to start his inevitable intervention. 

“I will help him, you know. It’s just…” Lance mumbled. 

“It’s a lot,” Hunk finished.

“We know,” added Pidge, though not unkindly. “But we can’t lose Keith, especially when we can keep him alive until we find a cure. I wish there was another way—like putting him in deep sleep or stasis—but the hypothermia worsens whether or not he’s conscious.” Lance knew it too; that much was evident from how the pods failed to reverse the problem. Lance simply sighed. 

“I know that. But-but what does helping Keith even _mean?_ ” he asked, throwing his hands in the air with acute frustration. “Do I have to… to hug him? All the time? Will he always have to be beside me or else he’ll freeze to death? Oh, god, I’m so screwed. This is going to kill me before Keith’s hypothermia can even _set_ in.” His friends recognize his token, anxious rambling with ease. Hunk is the first to react. He puts a comforting hand on Lance’s shoulder, his go-to move to show he’s listening. It stops his ranting long enough for Pidge to talk. 

“How about we take it one step at a time?” she suggested, adopting a rare caring tone. “You could start by holding his hand. If you’re lucky, that might be all he needs.”

———

Those who stayed behind didn’t stay long. Each gave Keith their own form of verbal support before heading off to do their own thing, preemptively giving Keith some time to adjust to his new situation. Everyone seems to know how this is going to play out, and Keith is thankful they’ve preemptively cleared out of the room to give him some space. Once the trio returned, Hunk gave Lance a final pat on the back on the back and Pidge spoke in hushed tones, before leaving the room. Keith sits alone on the steps, with Lance’s jacket draped over his back. It held only the ghost of the warmth that he felt when his hand skated over Lance’s. 

“I thought fabric didn’t help keep in the heat?” he asked, prompting Keith to tilt his head up to look at him. Keith decided he didn’t want to tell Lance about his discovery. 

“It doesn’t,” he lied. “But you’re right. It’s the thought that counts.” 

_It really, really doesn’t,_ he sighed to himself. _If anything, it makes the whole situation more painful._

Lance sat down beside him in one, unceremonious movement. He maintained enough distance so they’re not touching but were close enough. It’s here that Keith comes to another soundless, world-shattering realization. Even being in Lance’s vicinity provided warmth. Although it was a lukewarm comfort, it was a welcome one nonetheless. Lance went on, oblivious to his sudden epiphany. 

“So… you’re really serious, huh?” he asked. Keith couldn’t help but turn to look at him, shooting the fool a flat stare. 

“Wow, no. You _totally_ caught me,” said Keith, mocking him as he did so. “I lied because you’re such a pleasant person to be around.” 

“Okay, okay,” Lance huffed. “Point taken.” Then it’s quiet again, as neither teen wanted to be the first to initiate whatever this is supposed to be. It tension was palpable and only made acting harder. 

Without warning, Lance put his hand up in midair, palm facing upwards, leaving it there as an open invitation. When Keith switched his gaze from Lance’s hand to his face, he noticed Lance was pointedly looking away. He didn’t understand what’s going on or why until Lance speaks up. 

“Hold my hand.” 

Keith genuinely can’t believe what he’s hearing. He has to physically shake his head to center himself and refocus. There was no way he had heard Lance right. Maybe hypothermia wasn’t his only problem; he just hoped he wasn’t hallucinating. 

“What?”

“I know you don’t think highly of me, but I _do_ want to help. So just… let me? Please?” Lance muttered, still refusing to meet his eye. 

So Keith returned the gesture, gradually bringing his hand up to hover above Lance’s. Keith can _feel_ the heat emanating from him. As he reaches out and takes Lance’s hand, his breath stops—his lungs freezing in time, and his heart _melting._ For a moment, he freaks, but then the waves of warmth hit him. He felt like a survivor, starved from necessity for far too long. His freezing body seemed to thaw from the touch, and for a little while, he’s content. 

“You… you okay?” asked Lance. The boy had finally looked over at him, and for once, he looked openly vulnerable. Keith finds him staring a bit too long before finding his voice. It doesn’t help that it cracks the moment he uses it. 

“I, u _h_ —wow.” Keith said, the palpable awkwardness of his response settling in. His gaze dropped to their intertwined hands as his cheeks set on fire. “This is so messed up.” 

“Agreed,” muttered Lance with a curt nod. Keith knows he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but add on to his previous comment. 

“And so warm… god, why did it have to be you?” he asked to no one in particular. Lance looked at him, incredibly offended. 

“Wow,” he said, drawing out the word. “Thank you.” 

“No, I didn’t—“

“I guess I’ll take back my _warm_ hand then,” Lance said. Keith immediately entered panic-mode, because _he’s already fucked this up._ He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to communicate but—

He notices Lance was grinning. 

_Oh, this bonafide asshole._

“I’m just messing with you,” Lance chuckled. “I’m not actually going to, even if you are as annoying and dense as your mullet.” Keith found himself smiling back. 

“Wow,” he mocked, imitating Lance’s earlier comment. “Thank you.” 

With a steady source of warmth pouring into him and Lance’s never-ending smile, all his concerns dissipated. Keith had discovered a newfound sense of optimism. _Maybe this isn’t going to be as bad as I thought after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, but seriously— _thank you_ for making it this far. i hope you’ve enjoyed the start of this :)  
>  ~~notice i posted the first chap of this on April 1st—because it’s April Fools’ and i’m a fool and my life is a joke~~  
>  on another note, feel free to drop a comment below! i love responding and hearing what you guys think  
> <3


	2. warming up to you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m genuinely surprised by all the positive reception?? like seriously thank you guys so much??  
> i really do enjoy writing this au so i’m flattered everyone likes it as much as i do :)

Keith missed the warmth he had separated himself from. It wasn’t preferable, but he needed to switch out of his under-armor and back into his clothes. Due to the chaos of recent events, he hadn’t even realized everyone else had found the time to change. There had been too much going on for him to notice those kinds of details—which was incredibly unlike him. Now, though, all he could notice _were_ the details. Even though he was glad to have a moment alone, all he could focus on was his frigid, numbing hand. He really did miss Lance’s warmth, which was more horrifying than the hypothermia itself. Keith just couldn’t shake off the feeling; it was bizarre to miss something he hadn’t even adjusted to yet. 

When he returned to the pods, he returned Lance’s jacket. After quickly slipping it on, Lance took no time in recapturing Keith’s hand. The gesture pushed his heart to stutter in his chest, startled by such a calm, automatic reaction. Meanwhile, Lance seemed unbothered. If anything, the blue paladin was more concerned with the fact that it was dinnertime. 

Deciding to join the others, the two walked into the dinning hall, their hands remaining entwined. They entered as everyone was gathered around the table, discussing various theories on what happened and on possible solutions. As could be expected, Pidge was the most emphatic when it came to scientific hypothesis and theory. 

No one batted an eye to Lance and Keith entering together; the team already knew this was awkward for the two of them and had no intention in making it worse. The two take the seats positioned beside one another and immediately go to eat. Keith found it bizarre that no one seemed to notice how cold the food goo was—at least, compared to normal. In return, the team gives him a singular, questioning look, and that’s when Keith realizes. 

“Oh, i… it’s not cold, is it?” he said, proceeding to bite his lower lip. This was one quite possibly the worst realization of the night. He couldn’t taste warmth from foods or beverages either. 

As dinner neared an end, they all got up to say goodnight and recede to their rooms for the night. Since Keith had a room right next door to Lance’s, the two find themselves walking hand-in-hand once again. The two talk and tease one another until they reach their rooms, coming to face yet another problem. 

“So, do you think you’ll be okay?” Lance asked.

Guilty immediately resurfaced in Keith’s chest. The only reason Lance had to be uncomfortable was because he had to do something like this with someone he hated. Keith didn’t think he could ever be as warmhearted and self-sacrificing as Lance was. 

So he denied it. 

“I’ll be fine,” Keith told him, shooting him the most convincing smile he could muster. He could see Lance waver, but thankfully, it didn’t last. 

“Well, okay,” Lance said, conceding. He smiled in a way that made Keith weak in the knees. “I trust you.” 

Their conversation cut to quiet and Keith figured it was time to leave. He slowly retracted his hand, knowing it was better to rip off the bandaid and accept the pain in a rapid, single gesture. Albeit he hated the way the cold seeped through his skin like a million, piercing icepicks, there wasn’t any other option open to him. Ignoring his own internal complaints, Keith fully embraced the chilling temperature of his body. As he turned to leave, a warm hand grabbed at his wrist. He looked back at the boy who had reached out to him, not knowing what to expect next. 

“I-I just wanted you to know that if you _do_ need me, not saying that you do but… I’m right next door,” Lance said, imploring him to accept his help. His gaze was almost too intense to maintain eye contact with. “And if you tell anyone I said this I swear I will end you but—I’m willing to give up my beauty sleep if you need me, Keith. Okay?” 

Keith had to glance away. The blues of Lance’s eyes were too earnest and his words too sweet. He wanted to reach out back to Lance, but he knew Lance wasn’t going to be there forever. He was going to have to learn to deal with this mess on his own. In spite of himself, Keith refused to indulge in Lance’s warm touches. With a nod and a small smile, Keith headed to his room. 

That night he’s freezing. 

It’s a cold he had never experienced; worse than the desert at night, or being thrown into icy water during winter. Blankets don’t help, his jacket doesn’t help, and rubbing his hands together—shockingly—doesn’t help. All he can think about is the warm, welcoming swells of heat that travelled up his arm and made him shiver in delight. The feeling was far different from the isolating cold of his hair standing on the back of his neck. Even cold, he’s somehow sweating. 

Ultimately, Keith waited out the night, unable to find an alternate solution to the cold.

———

The next day arrives, and with it, a realization.

Lance could tell without a doubt in his mind that Keith didn’t sleep well. There was bags under his eyes, he looked more grumpy than usual, and he even went as far as accidentally snapping at Hunk earlier that morning. Keith apologized right after, to which Hunk easily waved it off. Hunk wasn’t the only one who cut Keith sympathetic slack. The whole crew expected Keith to be on edge, considering the circumstances. 

But the real thing that got him was the way Keith avoided him. 

At breakfast, he put his hand out between their chairs, imitating his first open invitation to hold his hand. Keith ignored him. When the crew was walking to the training deck, Keith strayed as far as possible from Lance as he could. He wasn’t being subtle, and they both knew it. It really hit him during the team’s sparring session, though. Shiro, along with the rest of the team, had noticed. Even so, Shiro was the only one to act. When it was time to pair up the team into twos, he pitted Pidge against Hunk, telling her she had to ‘learn to use body size to your advantage,’ paired himself with Matt, and in an effort to help Lance, paired him with Keith. 

Lance was immediately delighted. 

Keith looked horrified. 

The team pretended not to notice. 

They began training, and Lance did his best to make contact with Keith in any way—even if that meant by punch. Keith dodged incessantly, and it got to the point where Lance was getting exceptionally pissed off. He decided to follow Shiro’s suggestion and ‘use body size to his advantage.’ Even though he knew it was directed at Hunk and Pidge, he realized the one inch or so he had on Keith could prove useful. With every punch, Lance took a step forward. In response, Keith took a step back as he dodged. 

This continued until Keith realized he was being edged closer and closer to the wall behind him. He visibly panicked, and the next time Lance threw a punch, Keith instinctively caught it. It lasted mere seconds, but Lance was sure it was long enough. When the initial shock passed, Keith jolted back and took his hand with him, only his panic remaining. Without even a word of excuse, he dashed out of the training room. The team continued on, ignoring dutifully, knowing the two had to handle this alone. 

Lance groaned, sounding more like an exaggerated sigh than anything, and chased after him. Normally, Keith would have outrun him no question. But this was not normal Keith. This Keith was clearly exhausted, trembling, and in need of some comfort. The part that Lance hated was that Keith wasn’t willing to admit he needed help. He had never before been so annoyed with Keith’s stubborn attitude. 

The red paladin’s footsteps slammed hard against the tile, so it wasn’t hard to track him. Lance didn’t need the help though. He was only a few feet behind him, rushing down a long hall, when Keith collapsed. He fell to the floor with a loud smack, and Lance winced at the pain he must have felt on the way down. He reached Keith as the fallen boy cursed, propping himself up against the nearby wall. He glared as Lance kneeled in front of him. Lance knew exactly what he wanted to say. 

“Are you fucking serious?” he asked. Keith faltered, grunting before staring in another direction. 

“Listen mullet, I know you like the whole badass, lone wolf vibe you have going on, but you can’t keep going like this. It isn’t healthy,” Lance told him. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t respond, which only urged Lance to continue. “It will literally _kill_ you if you don’t…” he said, then paused to sigh. “But if you don’t want to open up to me, fine. Just… tell me what you need, Keith.” 

Keith finally looked at him, and their eyes locked. Before, he had the dark eyes of a wounded animal, desperate for escape, but in this moment, there was a shift. His gaze went soft, faintly widening for a moment Lance was more than willing to sit in forever. The hesitation that crept in was audible in the way Keith inhaled sharply. Keith opened his mouth, a vibrant debate shown silently through his eyes like the old black-and-white films he used to watch with his abuela. 

Then Keith shut down. 

Even so, in that fleeting, quiet moment, Lance didn’t lose his temper or get frustrated. In fact, he saw something. _Progress._ With a small, encouraging smile, he leaned forward and pulled Keith in for a tight embrace. Keith went frozen solid at first, but eventually melted into him. Lance never imagined someone so brooding and sharp-witted could be so… soft. 

“We’ll work on it,” Lance whispered.

———

The duo returned to the training deck shortly afterwards, but they had taken long enough for the session to be over. The rest of the team was sitting in a tightly knit circle, in deep discussion, when Lance and Keith come back. At first, none of them notice their presence. So, as the boys neared the team, Keith was forced to overhear his friends’ concerns for the first time since he was cursed.

“What happens when we have to pilot the lions?” Pidge had asked aloud, her back to Keith. She was seemingly facing Shiro, who sat pensive in thought, looking down at his lap. 

“And do you think we’ll be able to form Voltron if Keith has to be separated from Lance?” Hunk asked from beside her. “I’m worried he won’t be able to focus, especially if we have to fight for an extended period of time…” 

“I agree. We don’t what Keith’s condition entails. For all we know, it’ll get worse with time,” Allura butt in. “There’s too many unknowns.” Her hands were clasped together tensely, acting as the only indication of her worry. It was then that Shiro noticed the boys’, his gaze flicking upwards before addressing the team. 

“We’ll figure it out. We always do,” said Shiro. There was a trademark tone of finality in his voice, shutting down the conversation. 

Lance chanced a look at Keith, who wore a dark, unreadable expression. There was an aura of unfamiliarity to it that left Lance on edge. He hated that Keith had to listen to this. Though he understood the team’s worries, he knew Keith could handle his new situation. If anything, they should have been questioning if _Lance_ could handle it. 

“I second that,” Lance said, speaking up. Everyone, including Keith, turned to face him, startled. “We need to find information about Keith’s condition, not doubt its victim.” From his peripherals, he saw Keith’s gaze dissolve into a small but appreciative smile. 

“I’m glad you mentioned that, Lance,” said Allura. “Now that everyone is here, I wanted us to utilize the castle’s library for information.” 

“A library?” Pidge inquired with bright eyes, already standing. “Wouldn’t an electronic database be more efficient?” Allura shot the green paladin a warm smile. She shook her head.

“Our libraries don’t hold books but electronic tablets. Each tablet is an archive holding multitudes of vital information. The only downside is that we have to split up the information among the tablets, so we store stacks of them in the library,” the princess explained. “There’s far too much information for one system alone—it’d overwhelm a single tablet. That’s why we keep them separated.” 

Lance tuned out as Pidge and Hunk questioned her further, favoring furtive glances at a certain red paladin instead. He really hoped Keith didn’t take the team’s worries to heart. He knew better than anyone how an offhand comment could make or break a day. Thankfully, Keith was absorbed in conversation with Shiro, holding Lance’s hand all the while. 

Despite the enthusiastic and unanimous decision to research in the library, the day passed in a blink of an eye. They found nothing. After a while, most of the crew gave in, with Coran and Allura leaving first to attend to possible incoming transmissions. Shiro joined them shortly after, waving goodbye to the others. Pidge, Matt, and Hunk are the most unaffected by the lack of data on the Nori people. They were too busy being thrilled at the prospect of so much information open to them. The trio spent most of their time gathering info from various fields—none of which were on Keith’s condition. Even so, they were quick to leave at the call of lunch. 

Lance stayed behind. Not out of choice, mind you, but because Keith had decided to skip lunch first. He remained in the library, sprawled across the floor and surrounded by tablets. Lance knew he wanted to get rid of his relentless hypothermia as soon as possible, but he also knew that Keith needed to watch his health. So, untangling his hand from Keith’s, he went to leave. There was a tentative hesitation from Keith as he looked up in question, but Lance waved him off. He returned just as quick as he had gone, returning with two plates of Hunk’s newest creation. 

“Whoa,” Keith hummed, placing down his tablet, eyes wide. “Where does Hunk get the ingredients for this kinda stuff?” 

Lance chuckled as he handed Keith a plate. Albeit the dish resembled a bizarre combination of colorful ocean coral and macaroni and cheese, neither questioned Hunk’s culinary skills. For one, it smelled delicious, so Lance wasted no time in digging in. Keith was slower to the draw, it seemed. He stared at his meal, his hands gingerly tracing the outer portion of the plate. It caught Lance’s attention and had him worrying all over again. 

“Hey, mullet… if you wanted to talk—“

“It’s warm,” Keith muttered. Lance tilted his head, looking from Keith’s plate to his face in confusion. He didn’t understand, but he couldn’t deny the hope that grew in his chest. Maybe he didn’t have to worry about maintaining his cool around Keith anymore. Maybe the curse was wearing off. 

“Wait, seriously?” asked Lance, scooting over until his side pressed up against Keith’s. Keith jolted a bit at the gesture. “Why do you think…?” 

“You,” he answered. Their eyes met, and Keith looked as surprised as Lance felt. There was a glint of embarrassment in the darks of his gaze and Keith turned away. “I didn’t tell you earlier, but… your jacket did actually help.” 

“What do you mean?” asked Lance. The longer he spoke, the more baffled he became. 

“I think… you being close by isn’t the only thing that keeps me warm. Like when you gave me your jacket, it kept me warm for a while. It wasn’t as warm as you by a long shot, but still,” Keith said, elaborating quickly. “I didn’t think it was important then, but now…” The epiphany had Lance gaping. 

“I can warm stuff up for you!” he said, voice rising to a near shout. 

A giddy warmth spread through his chest, their research and their food long forgotten. Scrambling to his feet, the corners of his mouth turned upwards to form a big smile. Lance had seen firsthand how disheartened Keith had gotten when he realized he couldn’t taste warmth from food. Now he could change that. Without any prompting and a strange but inquisitive look from Keith, he sped out of the library. 

Luckily enough, Hunk was still in the kitchen. Lunch had ended a while ago but he had stayed behind, as per usual, to help Coran clean up. When Hunk looked up from the dishes he was scrubbing, he was instantly clued in by Lance’s expression. Dropping the dishes in the sink, he moved to his friend’s side in an instant. 

“Someone’s perky,” commented Hunk, flashing a smile. “What happened?” 

“Do we still have any of that hot chocolate alternative you got from Tulern a few weeks ago?” he asked, shifting between feet. Coran paid them no mind, busying himself with chores. 

“Duh, you think I’d leave behind culinary genius like _that?_ ” Hunk said, reminiscing. “I can’t believe she gave me the recipe _and_ some of their inventory in bulk!” 

As he blathered on, Lance followed close behind. His friend seemed to walk on autopilot, finding the right cabinet like it was muscle memory rather than conscious thought. He pulled out one of the many sturdy pouches filling the cabinet before reaching for a glass. There was a short pause in his movements as he worked. 

“I thought you preferred the milkshakes you make from Kaltenecker,” he said. It wasn’t stated as a question, but Lance knew better. On instinct, he sheepishly reached for the sleeve of his jacket, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. “I did—I-I do, I just… it’s… for Keith,” murmured Lance. 

He shouldn’t have been embarrassed. There was no need to feel like turning away and put his head into a nearby cabinet before slamming it shut to justify the color in his face. Even so, he couldn’t help it. Hunk had known him since the Garrison; while it was a blessing to have someone who was like family to him, it sucked knowing he would tease Lance for any intimate interaction with his self-proclaimed rival. 

“Oh?” hummed Hunk, his amusement not lost upon Lance. Off to the side, he failed to notice Coran slowing down. Lance rushed to defend himself. 

“We figured out that I can warm up stuff for him,” he told him excitedly. “It’s not as effective as, uh… direct contact with me, but it’s something. And you saw how he was yesterday at dinner!” 

“You don’t have to make up excuses for being nice to Keith,” Hunk said, trying but failing to hide a sly grin. “I’m just glad you two are getting along so well, especially considering you’re not stuck together by choice.” 

With that, Hunk extended a hand, the steaming drink laying in his palm. He had even managed to top it with the whipped cream he had made—courtesy of Kaltenecker. Lance gave a brisk but genuine thanks, making his way to the doorway. He almost made it too, until Coran stepped in his way. Before either paladin could question him, he was reaching out and uncurling his fist, drizzling powder on top of the beverage. 

“The boy really likes a touch of cinnamon with this,” said Coran, his free hand giving a gentle pat on his shoulder. He turned to Hunk. “I make him the same thing when he’s having trouble sleeping, but I reckon you shouldn’t tell him I told you so.” 

“Thank you, Coran,” he said with a smile. “Really.”

———

Keith was getting frustrated. Lance still hadn’t come back after their joint revelation, leaving Keith alone in his research. There still wasn’t any sign of Nori hypothermia, let alone anything indicative of their culture as a people. He was just about ready to toss his tablet across the room when Lance entered. He was caught between the balance of not spilling a drink and making it to Keith as fast as possible. All Keith’s frustration fell away. His intense concentration was endearing to say the least, and Keith had to shield his smile behind the tablet in hand.

“What’s that for?” Keith asked. 

“For you, you dolt,” Lance muttered, still focused on attending to his drink. He carefully dropped down to sit on the floor with his legs crossed. Finally in a secure spot, long, tanned fingers pressed against the glass as Lance stared intently down at the cocoa. Keith’s unmanageable smile returned. 

“You don’t have laser vision, _you dolt,_ ” Keith teased, pressing closer. “You just have to hold it.” 

“Ah, ah, ah!” Lance tutted, shuffling away. “I know what I’m doing! Just watch.” Keith rolled his eyes, but couldn’t deny he was enjoying himself. There was no longer any bite to their banter and he actually found himself enjoying their conversations. 

“Okay, okay,” said Lance, mostly to himself. “Try it now.” 

The blue paladin finally looked up, and Keith was far from prepared. He wore a look that was unseen on him before this moment—at least, it was never a look directed at him. Although Lance wore but a tiny smile, it was his eyes that said it all. There was an unbridled sparkle to it that he had only seen after they had won a battle or he did particularly well in a round of training. 

Keith obliged, the exposed tips of his fingers skimming Lance’s as he took the drink. _It’s so warm. I guess he was right in holding it for so long…_ It was as he brought it up to his lips that he recognized a familiar powder covering the surface. He stuttered in his movements, nearly spilling his drink, as he noticed the cinnamon. Regaining control, he took a sip, all the while wondering if the powdery finishing touch was a coincidence. 

“So?” asked Lance, his legs rocking in anticipation. 

There was a childish eagerness to the single-syllable question. It was so simple, yet it brought a heat to his cheeks thrice the warmth of the drink in his hands. Once again, he was reminded of how sweet the sentiment was. He lowered the cup, reveling in the warmth of the glass. It may have been day two, but it felt like it had been ages since he last drank something this warm.

“This is amazing,” Keith admitted. “You’re going to have to do this for me more often.” 

As if prompted by some unseen force, Lance’s facial features fell blank. It lasted so long Keith was tempted to ask him if he was okay when Lance burst into a fit of bubbly laughter. Keith’s heart raced at the sight—which alarmed him as much as Lance’s chortling did. It felt as if his heart was being jumpstarted after being frozen in stasis. He wasn’t able to dwell on it long, though, as Lance interrupted him. 

“Wa-wait, d-don’t move,” said Lance, trying to contain himself. 

Keith watched him scramble for the portable handheld Pidge had given each of them a while back. It resembled the glassy tablets encompassing them, but was significantly smaller. Keith didn’t quite get why he had reached for it, as the device served as a makeshift phone. Then it clicked; Lance only took out his phone for photos. 

“Smile!” cheered Lance, following his own command. Keith impulsively abandoned his drink to cover his face, cursing the fact that the cocoa had whipped cream. If he knew any better, he would have guessed Lance had done it on purpose. 

“Lance!” he shouted. Dropping his hand, he careened forward to grab at the phone. 

Lance dodged with ease, laughing the whole time. It only stirred Keith further. He continued to grapple with him pointlessly. Why Lance hadn’t taken the picture yet he didn’t know, but he hoped whatever it was kept him from doing so until he could steal his portable. Midway through another jab at Lance, the boy in question reached out, his fingers slipping smoothly across his jaw. He froze when Lance’s grip held the underside of his jaw, and then—against any will of his own—melted at the touch. Keith was leaning forward and his face was far too close to Lance’s. His breath halted, and Keith reckoned his heart would have stuttered in his chest, if it hadn’t gone silent all of a sudden. 

“ _Perfect,_ ” whispered Lance. 

There was a click, but the fleeting sound was lost on Keith’s flushing ears. If asked in that moment, he would have said he was frozen in place—that is, if his insides hadn’t been set afire. The worst yet simultaneously most reassuring fact was that the feeling didn’t hurt. Rather than scorching him, the intense heat acted as a comfort. It stripped him of his inhibitions and coerced him into leaning into Lance’s touch. Lance, meanwhile, was fully immersed in the photo he had taken. After a period of time that was detrimental to Keith’s health, Lance pulled away and placed both hands on the device. 

“ _Delete it,_ ” Keith said, breathless. He turned away, his eyes landing on the cocoa Lance had brought him. His stomach was already acting up but it was more than worth it. 

_Anyone who swaps real milk for water in hot chocolate is a coward and I refuse to do the same._

“And lose this god-tier blackmailing material?” said Lance, not waiting for an answer. “Pft, over my dead body.” 

“Tempting offer, but I can’t afford to lose my only source of heat,” Keith said. “At least, not _yet._ ” Lance met his gaze with mock disbelief. 

“ _Wow,_ Keith. That’s low, even for you,” he replied, though not unkind. Lance was still smiling. “Using me for my body?”

“Please don’t describe it like that.” 

“And I thought we were bonding,” finished Lance with a smug grin. Any remnants of embarrassment dispersed in Keith. He glared at the other boy. 

“You said that on purpose.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lance drawled, pocketing his device. He went to grab another archival tablet to continue their research. 

The rest of their evening was relatively uneventful. They went through a large chuck of tablets but to no avail. There was nothing to be found. Even when Lance suggested to prioritize diseases or curses relative to hypothermia instead of the Nori, they were winding down. Hope was scarce in these moments, and Keith had already gone in expecting nothing. When dinner came after interminable hours of searching, Keith refused to leave and missed dinner. Lance decided to stay with him and missed dinner too. The only indication of time was the dimming of the lights around them. It was getting late. 

“Wow! Are you kids sure you don’t want to call it a night?” asked a familiarly upbeat voice. Both of the boys were too tired to be startled, blinking up slowly at Coran. Beside him, Lance turned to Keith. He met him halfway and faltered. They didn’t have time to rest, they had to find a cure. He couldn’t stay with the blue paladin forever. 

_God, but I_ could _though,_ a suppressed part of Keith’s mind echoed. Naturally, Lance decided to take the situation into his own hands. 

“Actually, Coran, yes,” answered Lance. “We are going to sleep.” 

Keith gaped him, not bothering to hide his shock. Before he could give a verbal response, however, Lance pulled him to his feet. Keith teetered as he stood, his balance temporarily leaving him to be replaced by the feeling of Lance’s hands on his. 

“Grab a few tablets before we go,” Lance told him. “I know you’re going to have trouble sleeping so at least this way you’ll have something to do.” 

Keith panicked. Had Lance had figured out how difficult sleeping was being so cold? Admittedly it didn’t take a genius to guess something like that, Lance never seemed to have any interest in how Keith was doing. _Or he knows about my insomnia,_ he thought. It made more sense, as it wasn’t something he hid. 

Keith obliged, shoveling an unread pile of tablets into his arms. Shifting the weight to one arm, he took Lance’s hand out of habit, surprised at how casual the gesture had become. Coran moved aside as the two reached the doorway, smiling as they passed him. Keith caught himself memorizing the comforting sensation of Lance’s hand, knowing moments like these were the only thing that kept him sane through the night. They reach their rooms sooner than Keith would’ve liked, but doesn’t hesitate to release his hand the moment they get there. He wasn’t sure what would be appropriate to say and opted to say nothing at all. He had turned to go to his room when Lance stepped in front of him. 

“Mullet,” he said, his voice hushed. Keith gave him a tired, annoyed look, but it failed to deter Lance. “You get cold at night, am I right?” As per usual, Keith resorted to panicking. Confrontations normally don’t bug him, but this was too intimate for him to deal with. 

“Yeah,” he admitted, cursing himself for crumbling. He quickly backpedalled. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle…” 

“Nope. I can’t allow that,” Lance said, having immediately perked at Keith’s words. 

“W-what?” asked Keith. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“We’re going to share a bed,” Lance explained plainly. A jumbled string of excuses tried to form in his mouth, but only end up forming a Gordian knot of stuttering. After a few seconds of this, Keith finally managed a curt sentence. 

“”I—n-no I’m fine. I-I can handle this—“ 

Lance was not having none of this. They had been making progress earlier. He wasn’t going to give up there. It was clear that if Keith needed to be nudged, Lance would be more than happy to give him a forceful shove in the right direction. 

“Stop lying,” said Lance. It came out as a low growl. Though he didn’t mean it to sound as aggressive as it did, it did the trick. Keith’s mouth shut closed, reserved entirely to watching. 

Lance stepped in close, bringing his fingers up underneath Keith’s chin, urging him forward. It was similar to the gesture back in the library, but the atmosphere was much more intimate now. With only inches between them, Lance spoke again in a much gentler, pleading tone. 

“ _Tell me what you want._ ”

Keith lost his shit. 

All the flat, thin screens of archaical information fall and clatter to the floor. Lance didn’t even flinch at the sound, his gaze entirely focused on Keith. That amount of intense attention made his heart pound louder than any scream his mind could conjure. A comfortable, pleasing warmth rippled from where Lance held his face, and he felt himself shiver. In that moment, there was only one thing that Keith could think. 

_DEAR FUCK._

Keith’s voice was barely a murmur when his lips part. 

“I don’t want to be cold anymore.”

That’s what gets him. The intense focus shattered with a subdued calm as Lance broke into a wide, beaming smile. Keith forgot how to breathe. 

“Was that so hard?” Lance whispered. Without awaiting an answer, he stepped backwards to lean down and pick up the files Keith had dropped. It gave Keith a moment of reprieve, his cheeks flaming and his lungs shaking as if a monster was trapped inside it. 

“You… don’t you think it’s weird?” asked Keith, still regaining his breath. Lance stood up straight, now eye level with him. His smile was more of an amused grin now. He handed Keith the files, and with shaky hands, he took them. 

“What do I think is weird?” Lance asked back. 

“Sleeping… with a person in the same bed. Especially someone you’re not close to?” he said. He had begun to regain his composure and was finally able to keep up a conversation. 

“I mean, not really?” Lance said with a shrug. “I grew up sharing a bed with my siblings and sometimes my friends—when my mama would let them stay over.” He gave a thoughtful pause to watch Keith. “Why do you say we’re not close?” 

_Is that a rhetorical question or is he denser than I thought?_

“Uh, maybe it has something to do with us fighting all of the time?” Keith countered immediately. “Plus I can tell you’ve never liked me very much. I get you’re only helping out because you have to.” Lance’s gaze dropped at that. 

“That—“ Lance silently fumbled for words. “That’s not… that… that was something else. I don’t hate you I just…” 

“You just what?” pressed Keith. He wondered if Lance would even answer, and isn’t surprised when the boy clears his throat, doing as much as Keith expected. 

“It’s not important,” he said, waving it off. A smug grin overtook his features, which only further throws Keith off his guard. “So, your place or mine?” Keith nearly choked at that, shooting him an unappreciative glare. 

_I’m going to kill him._ Despite his clear want to avoid answering, Lance waited, patient as ever. Eventually, Keith gave in, giving a sheepish response. 

“Yours,” he said. Lance took a moment to taunt him while they strolled to his door, but Keith didn’t hesitate to defend himself. 

“I don’t want you rummaging through my stuff and judging me, okay!” Keith shot back. Lance only pushed him wore, his complacent amusement growing. 

“Oh?” Lance hummed, turning to raise a brow at him. “Worried I’m going to find something?” 

“You know what? Maybe I _would_ rather freeze. Goodnig—“ Lance was laughing, but managed to interrupt Keith. 

“W-wait, wait,” Lance said. “I’m just messing with you.” 

_I know,_ he thought to himself. _That’s why I’m not sure I can handle this._

Lance excused himself to go to the bathroom to change after that, leaving Keith alone to his own devices. In the meantime, he decided to take a look around. The first thing he does is place the files on the floor beside the bed, that way he could reach down and grab them throughout the night. With that done and out of the way, he walked around to find that there’s pictures of everyone, from Hunk and Pidge to Coran and Matt. He absentmindedly wondered if Hunk managed to make that printer he was so keen on. 

There’s more than a couple selfies lined across the wall. The photos are mostly of Lance with a myriad of aliens from different planets that are stuck to one vast expanse of a wall. At closer inspection, Keith realized they stuck with all sorts of sticky tape and glue. Below them are shelves lined with trinkets and toys, a few of which were probably from the space mall. A small smile played across his face, remembering how excited Lance was to dress up. 

_I wonder if he still has that ridiculous costume._

From all of this, Keith gathered two things. Two things, of which, he already knew. One: Lance was sentimental. Two: Lance had taken pictures of everyone for posterity. Everyone but him. Sure, Lance _had_ taken a picture of him earlier, but it was a far cry from a kind gesture. Lance had even said so himself—it had been for the sake of blackmail. It only verified his claim; despite his claims, he knew Lance didn’t like him. 

The bathroom door slid open, drawing his attention away from the wall, and Lance stepped out in comfortable yet stylish sleepwear. Stepping away, Keith followed Lance until they reached the bed. Lance had no issue crawling into bed and patting the open spot next to him. The sight was too overwhelming, and Keith gave as many excuses he could. 

“Are you sure it’s not too small?” he said, his words a panicked mess. “I don’t think there’s enough room for the two of us—“ Lance reached out and lazily tugged Keith onto the bed, cutting him off. 

“Boots off, thanks,” murmured Lance, shifting to lie on his back. There was space between them but it didn’t bother Keith. He knew just being in Lance’s proximity kept him warmer than before. So by nudging closer—without touching him—Keith maintained a body heat that wasn’t as cold. It’s not warm by any means, but it was _much_ better than what he deal with last night. 

He did as Lance asked, kicking off his boots before settling in beside the blue paladin. They talk for bit about the day, skimming over their failure to find any helpful information. Their conversation eventually devolves into silly discussion and banter until Lance grew quiet. There was only one reason why Lance would ever be quiet—the boy had fallen asleep. With nothing else to do, Keith focused completely on the tablets. 

Now, what neither Keith nor Lance knew was that Lance was a sleep cuddler. There’s some people who took up a lot of space and hogged it, there’s some who slept walk, some who couldn’t sleep at all, but Lance was a special case. He cuddled. Since he was so used to being around people and sleeping with others, it was typical for him to reach out in the dead of night, seeking another body for affection and warmth. 

Keith was _not_ ready. 

While he had been reading, absorbed in his thoughts, he had his guard down. After all, there was no reason to worry with Lance asleep, right? _Wrong._ A warm body bumped up against the side of his arm. He turned, expecting Lance to have nudged him on purpose, maybe wanting to ask something. Yet the other boy was fast asleep. He looked down—a horrible mistake on his part—to see Lance’s hand pressing up against his. 

His cheeks warmed because even in sleep, Lance wanted to help. It’s then that Keith came to a confusing realization: Lance’s subconscious clearly has no issue with helping Keith. So, then, _why_ did Lance pick on him all the time? As if hearing his thoughts, there was a sudden shift in the bed as Lance shuffled on his side, muttering in his sleep. Keith would never admit he found this adorable, but _it was totally adorable._

Then it happened. 

In a bumbling but unexpected move, an arm fell across Keith’s waist. A new warmth, calming but dangerous—like a campfire back on Earth—erupted across his stomach. There’s a weak tug, followed by Lance’s incoherent mutters. Keith breathes in a sharp intake of air. This had to be a prank. 

“Holy—Lance, are you really…?” 

Then, as sudden as it had arrived, Lance twisted away, the cold rushing to take his place. It’s a sharp, almost painful feeling. It startled Keith to the point that he dropped his tablet directly onto his face. An expressive expletive left him as he recovered and he lifted the tablet. No longer interested in fruitlessly searching for information, Keith set aside the tablet. 

Flipping on his side, he gave Lance’s face a cursory glance, then sighed. The boy was murmuring again, and although his words were unintelligible, Keith closed his eyes to listen anyway. For some reason, being near Lance’s tired warmth helped lull him to sleep too, and before he knew it, he was completely knocked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, feel free to drop a comment below. i always respond, even if i may be a little slow bc of my schedule.  
> thank you again for reading, it means the world  
> <3


	3. baby steps (towards the gay agenda)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FORGIVE ME FOR THE HORRENDOUSLY LATE UPDATE  
> i promise i’m going to be working towards a more consistent posting schedule, so in the meantime thanks for understanding. hope you enjoy <3

Lance was slow to wake, and immediately regretted and aggressively appreciated all his life choices up until this moment. Because the moment he opened his eyes, a sleeping Keith lied just inches away from him, his relaxed features facing Lance. It took a moment longer to realize the reason to why Keith was so close. He had made the mistake of letting his eyes trail down Keith to see his own arm curled around Keith’s waist, gently holding him close. Lance choked on his own palpable surprise, forcing down a squeal. 

He was _so_ lucky he woke up before Keith had. Whipping his arm gingerly but quickly away, he thanked the heavens Keith didn’t see this and stab him in his sleep. As that very thought came to mind, his eyes came to rest on Keith’s normal attire. He huffed, his breath attacking Keith’s stray, dark strands of hair. The boy even had his Marmoran blade and belt on for God’s sake. 

“Oh, mullet,” he breathed, breaking out into a small smile. “You’re definitely not getting away with that again.” 

Lance leaned over the side of the bed to grab himself one of the tablets, checking the time. He hadn’t slept in too late, so he figured there was no need to wake Keith up. After all, he had been through a lot the past day—not to mention the fact that they were meant to protect the universe as well. Lance was sure Keith dropping his guard like this was a rarity; there was no doubt Keith had been more overwhelmed than he let on. Lance knew the feeling. 

_Then again, he_ did _punch me in the face yesterday._

Even so, Lance couldn’t blame him. He _had_ been a bit of a dick when it came to figuring out the parameters of Keith’s condition. Plus, Lance tended to take out stress on Keith too, except he was more verbal than physical when it came to their fights. He drew himself from bed, being careful to not wake ridiculous mullet occupying over half his bed. For someone who preferred keeping to himself, Keith sure did take up a lot of space. 

First things first, Lance needed breakfast. He couldn’t think properly without brain food and he still didn’t quite believe yesterday happened. Stepping out into the adjacent hallway, he ambled to the kitchen, passing the common room as he did so. There was a certain damper on the general atmosphere of the room. All its silence was only broken by the sound of clacking. Following the noise, Lance entered the dinning hall. 

“I’m telling you, Shiro. The Nori are a secretive bunch. We’re not going to find anything like this,” said Matt. His back was to Lance, the clacking of keys resonating from the laptop in front of him. “The only viable option is to confront the elders on Norvia.” 

“We can’t risk angering the elders and losing their people as an ally,” said Shiro. “The Coalition isn’t strong because of Voltron alone. Those who stand beside us are just as important—if not more so.” There was a blatant snort from Matt. 

“You’re telling me that those shady jerkoffs are more important than an actual paladin of Voltron?” asked Matt, the rhetoric thick in his questioning. Lance saw their leader visibly stiffen at that. 

He knew he should step in, that he should announce his presence as this technically _was_ eavesdropping, but he couldn’t help it. Everyone seemed to dance around him and Keith yesterday. Though he appreciated the gang’s attempts to make the situation easier on the two of them, he didn’t like the idea of problems being held from him for ‘their sake.’ He had a right to know what was going on, as did Keith. 

“Keith can handle himself,” Shiro responded coolly. There was a sigh from Matt and the ceasing of fingers tapping purposefully against a keyboard. 

“You know I don’t doubt that, Shiro,” he said. “But we both know who your biggest concern is… and you can talk to him without telling him anything he doesn’t need to know.” Lance did not like the sound of that. 

“What does _he_ not need to know?” asked Lance, stepping forward. The two turned their heads; Matt had moved so violently that his chair screeched against the tile as he stood. 

Matt threw a meaningful look to Shiro, who had completely zoned in on Lance’s presence. He wore an unreadable expression, one that sent shivers down his spine. It shared a fearful resemblance to the look he wore that time he had lectured Lance for sleeping through a Galra attack. He hated being lectured in front of the rest of the team and did his best to dodge all of Shiro’s prodding questions. In the end, he conceded. He had admitted to staying up to practice a new video game Pidge had gotten—for the sole purpose of beating her. It had been a total lie, but it had worked. At the time, he was far from comfortable enough to admit how he spent the sleepless night staring out into space. It had happened way back when they had first come together as a team, and when his homesickness first became a problem. 

“Lance,” said Shiro, his voice ostensibly strained. “Allura has a meeting scheduled in a few minutes, so you have time to walk with me. Let’s talk.” 

Yesterday had been a lot to take in, so it made sense that he was on edge, but the last thing he wanted to do was yell at his hero. Lance kept his mouth firmly shut. Shiro put a steady hand on Matt’s shoulder, telling him to continue his research until further instruction, before leading Lance out of the room. The silence hung over them like an ominous, ash-colored cloud. 

“I’ll keep this short, since it won’t be long before we reach the control room,” Shiro said, his tone curt but serious. “I am well aware of your rivalry with Keith, but if it gets in the way of his well-being…” The threat was open-ended and left a bad taste in Lance’s mouth. 

_Does he really have that little trust in me?_

“I care about him too, you know,” he shot back. Lance refused to acknowledge the words that left his mouth, rushing to start his next sentence before Shiro could respond. “And even if I didn’t, do you seriously I would value our petty rivalry over his own life?”

“So you admit it’s petty?” Shiro asked. 

“I—th-that’s not—“ said Lance, hemming and hawing. Shiro gave a short chuckle, which made it even more difficult to speak properly. “That isn’t what I meant and you know it!” 

“As long as you can put it aside, I don’t care what you call it,” said Shiro. His voice was no longer unkind, but Lance’s shoulders remained tense. Before he could change his mind, Lance spoke his mind. 

“What was I not supposed to know?” he asked. 

“H-hmm?” 

“I’m not stupid, Shiro,” said Lance. A sudden surge of confidence filled his chest and he raised his voice. “I may not have been top of my class, but I didn’t get accepted into the Garrison for nothing.” 

“I… I know that,” Shiro said with a halting sigh. “It’s not that I see you as incapable—because I know for a fact that you aren’t. I just… worry about him, you know? He didn’t have anyone when he showed up at the Garrison, so I took him under my wing.” There was a poignant pause as Shiro turned to him. “He’s my family.” 

A knot formed in Lance’s chest, taut and painful. If anything, he understood where Shiro was coming from too well. He hated the constant, pulsating reminder that he was lightyears away from his family. Even so, he wasn’t sure he would be able to handle having a family member—let alone his _entire_ family—up in space beside him. Lance breathed in a long, silent breath before nodding. 

“I get it. Trust me, I do,” Lance said. Allowing the preemptive regret to soak in, he said to Shiro what he wished he could do for his family. “I promise you, I will protect Keith with everything I have.” 

Shiro went deadly quiet, watching Lance with a careful eye. There were a few moments throughout their intense staring contest where Lance opened his mouth to resemble a fish out of water. Even so, Lance said nothing, stuck between the desperate need to take back what he just admitted and the embarrassment that flushed his cheeks. 

“A petty rivalry, huh?” said Shiro, breaking out into a smug grin. Lance was hating this repetition. He dropped his gaze to the floor. 

“Please don’t tell him I said that…” he replied. Shiro sighed in response, uncrossing his arms across his chest and relaxed them to his sides. 

“I don’t see why that would be a bad thing, but… okay,” Shiro said. The two began walking once again. “And Lance… _thank you._ ” 

“If you really wanted to show your gratitude, you could always answer my question,” said Lance. He had to be persistent if he wanted answers. “What did you want to hide from me so badly?” 

“I didn’t mean to hide anything from you two. I just didn’t want Keith to worry instead of focusing on his recovery. But it was wrong of me to try to keep you in the dark about this,” said Shiro, his voice going quiet. “Matt and… some of the others are beginning to have doubts. Matt especially—he thinks our only option is to persuade the elders to help.” Lance could practically feel the stress emanating off of Shiro. It was contagious, and had Lance running his hands through his hair.

“How is it possible that there’s _nothing_ about Keith’s condition?” he asked aloud, not really expecting an answer. 

“That’s the thing. It should be possible,” said Shiro, equal parts confused and frustrated. “The Altean archives are incredibly immense in their knowledge, but Coran said the Nori value their privacy. So much so that they wouldn’t do so much as kiss and tell, where outsiders are concerned.” 

“So then, what do we do?” 

“ _You_ are going to keep your promise and make sure Keith doesn’t endanger himself,” said Shiro. “The rest of us are going to focus on a cure.” There wasn’t time for verbal retaliation as they entered the control room. Shiro’s words fell silent while the princess’s speech grew in volume. 

“—nd we have been cordially invited to their annual, planetary celebration tomorrow. I encourage you all to be on your best behavior,” Allura said, her eyes landing on the two new entrants. “Or need I remind you what we’re losing here if we fail forging an alliance with the people of Norvia.”

“Actually, I think we’d all appreciate being reminded of why these guys are so important,” chimed in Pidge. There was a hint of sass to her comment but it was apparent that she wanted an answer. 

“They’re a hub of interplanetary activity,” Allura explained plainly. She seemed unbothered by the slight attitude, or at the very least was good at masking it. “Their planet is shared by many races—though primarily the Nori—and as such it has become the head of an organization between the chain of planets in this solar system. Having them on our side would be a huge gain for the Coalition.” 

“Are we all going?” asked Hunk. “What happens if we get attacked and we’re not close to our lions?” 

“Well, my boy, I’m glad you asked,” Coran butt in, chipper as always. “As of now, this area of the galaxy is entirely untouched by the Galra.”

“Wow,” Pidge said. “That would be a first.” 

“Any reason why that is?” asked Shiro, joining the others around Allura. 

“For once, I believe, we got lucky,” said Coran. 

“That can happen?” said Hunk. 

“So Keith and I can come too, then?” Lance said, speaking up for the first time since he set foot in the room. When everyone turned their attention onto him, he looked to Shiro. Not only did he want to lend a hand in finding a cure, he knew Keith hated feeling useless, so this trip would serve as a good outlet for him. Shiro may have been right about Keith needing to focus on his recovery, but he was wrong about not wanting Keith to worry. Keith was already worried. They all were.

“I know I, for one, would appreciate some fresh air. Plus we could ask around about Keith,” said Lance. 

“I’m not so sur—“ Shiro started. 

“I think that’s a wonderful idea!” said Allura, clasping her hands together in approval. “We should all take a break when the chance presents itself.” 

“Finally,” said Pidge. “If it’s all the same to you guys, Hunk and I are going to meet up with Matt to work on a little project we have planned.” 

“Well, we did just finish our blueprints, so it would be nice to have some time off until tomorrow,” Hunk said. It was then that Shiro loudly cleared his throat. Hunk met Lance’s gaze; they knew where this was going. 

“We still have today,” he said. “We should utilize the time we do have to train.” 

_Nope. No. Nuh-uh. We finally get a chance at a day off and I will physically eject myself out of an airlock if we lose it._

“Like the princess said, tomorrow is a big day,” Lance said, quick to stop this train in its tracks. “We would all benefit from some rest, Keith included. He’s still sleeping, and who can blame him? Yesterday would have taken a huge toll on any of us.” 

“Keith? Sleeping in?” asked Pidge. “What did you do? Or should I say _who_ did you do?” she finished, throwing Lance her trademark smirk. He caught it and threw her a dirty look in return. 

“I second that,” said Hunk. Lance’s jaw dropped. He turned to him, unable to believe his best buddy would truly ever betray him. Hunk’s eyes grew wide, and he was quick to mend his implicating word choice. 

“I meant th-the day off thing,” Hunk said, nervously gesturing with his hands. “Not… what Pidge said.” 

“ _Thank_ you,” said Lance. He sighed in relief. 

“Well, not… not that I necessarily disagreed—“ 

“ _Illegal! No more talking anymore!_ ” said Lance, shouting more than he was talking. 

“Fine,” Shiro exhaled. He sounded like a defeated father conceding to his children—then again, the simile wasn’t far from the truth. “Don’t get too excited. I expect you all to contribute tomorrow during the celebration. Speak kindly to all those we meet tomorrow. That means no sassing, _Pidge_ , and no flirting—” 

“Aw, come on!” retorted Lance, crossing his arms. “Like that would be such a bad thing.” 

“Oh, I assure you, it would be,” said Shiro, narrowing his eyes. Most of the gang had filed out of the room, leaving only Hunk beside the two of them. 

_Ouch._

“Not that you’ll have time for flirting,” said Shiro, “because you have a promise to keep.” 

He felt Hunk toss him a questioning look but kept his attention on their team leader. With a short intake of breath, Lance straightened his back and gave Shiro a melodramatic salute. He wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. 

“Yes, sir!” said Lance. “Hunk, I’m going to the kitchen right now, and it would be great to have your help.” 

With that, Lance sped out of the room with his best friend in tow. The last thing he wanted right now was another lecture from Shiro about the best way to ‘handle’ Keith. He had to deal with Keith ignoring, ridiculing, and all around hating him since the moment they met. Lance should be the one giving Shiro pointers, not the other way around. 

_I can handle this without Shiro’s constant nagging._

———

Cold. 

Keith’s world was freezing. Intense, rolling waves of cold overwhelmed his body and mind. His stomach was squirming, twisting, and contorting in all ways that were impossible and uncomfortable. Everything hurt. He knew he was shivering, but all he could consciously focus on was the lump in his chest that was the source of it all. It was his heart. He didn’t know _how_ he knew that, but there was no doubt that he was right. 

Eyes shooting open, Keith came to. He was on his side, facing the empty space beside him. Did he sleep in? That wouldn’t make sense though, because wouldn’t Lance have woken him up in the process? He had always been a light sleeper. His body was still shaking uncontrollably and his mind was still panicking. There was no other alternative but to remain frozen in place, wishing more than anything that the blanket was around his shoulders and not at the foot of the bed. He must have tossed and turned a lot in his sleep. 

_That’s why Lance isn’t here. You were even more annoying unconscious than you were conscious._ It would have been an impressive feat if it didn’t hurt more than the cold did. 

Keith couldn’t quite place the voice in his head but he knew it wasn’t his own. There was something wrong. It was too vitriolic and detached to belong to him. The erratic pulsating cold went on, refusing to stop, despite his silent pleas. His thoughts stammered around in his head as his body continued to grow more and more numb. His state of panic grew along with it, and his vision became fuzzy. 

_Lance. Lance, where are you?_ he thought wretchedly, a prisoner of his own mind. His next thought came in subdued; it was best described as a cerebral whisper. _Why did you have to abandon me too…?_

As if the gods heard his prayers, the debilitating cold spike vanished as suddenly as it had come. It was still strikingly cold, but it was more tolerable now. Jolting upwards in a cold sweat, Keith jerked forward and pulled the blanket around him. It provided a helpful degree of absolutely nothing. He didn’t know what he had expected. Naturally he should have known by now that the universe loved seeing him suffer. Keith searched the room, his eyes trailing over all the empty space around him. The hissing of a door opening caught his attention and he turned to face it. 

“O-oh, Keith,” said Lance. He stood in the doorway, both arms preoccupied with a tray of food from the kitchen. “Oh no… I’m so so sorry, I didn’t—” 

Lance scrambled to his side, placing down the tray on the nightstand. He was in such a rush that he nearly pushed the entire nightstand over in the process, spilling some of the cocoa. Lance hovered over him, his hands inches away from Keith’s pallid face but hesitant to actually touch him. _God, is that cute._ Keith immediately attributed that thought to the ones from earlier—the ones that were definitely _not_ his own. 

“Can I—can I… help?” asked Lance, his voice softer than Keith thought imaginable. His heart jumpstarted at the delightfully soothing sound. 

Keith didn’t reply—at least, not vocally. As if on autopilot, his arms dropped the disappointing square of fabric hanging on his shoulders in favor of falling forward. Before he fell face-first into Lance’s chest, Keith hooked his arms around the other boy’s neck, pulling himself upwards just enough to bury his face in the crook of Lance’s neck. Instantly, he was swarmed with a familiar and addictive warmth. He inhaled sharply at the contact, but was relieved when Lance did the same. 

“‘m sorry,” Keith mumbled against the exposed skin of his neck. 

He inaudibly took note of the fact that skin-to-skin contact was infinitely warmer than when there was any form of barrier between them. Understandably, he was terrified of the implications of that. At least he still had his inhibitions. _For now._ He aggressively shoved down the thought. Lance held his hands midair, still unsure in his movements. The bizarre, instinctive trance of thoughts resurfaced, and rather than think them, he spoke his thoughts aloud. 

“Hold me,” he whispered against him. Keith could feel him tense up. His brain short-circuited as he struggled for an excuse. He lifted himself just enough to speak clearly. 

“I-I meant—not—you don’t have to… it… ignore it…” Keith stammered on. 

There was a short chuckle that Keith felt reverberate through Lance’s chest. It made his own chest sink, terrified at the prospect of Lance laughing at him. It didn’t last long, though, before arms wrapped around him to return his embrace. It was a strong yet gentle gesture, and everything Keith knew wanted but everything he knew he couldn’t have. 

_No. Stop. I-I shouldn’t… I can’t think like that,_ he thought, even as he melted against Lance. _I bet if I asked Coran what the Altean definition for a ‘mess’ was he would just show me a picture of myself. That’s how much of a fool I’m being right now._ Despite the truth of his internal admonishment, he was enjoying every moment of this. For once, he could definitively say that Lance didn’t hate him. At least, not enough to pull away. 

“You know for a second there I was worried you were going to tell me to cradle you in my arms,” said Lance. He could practically hear the self-satisfaction in his voice. Keith pulled back, almost viciously, to stare at Lance with his eyes blown wide. 

“Oh my god, it’s official. I hate you,” said Keith. The intensity of his disbelief was so extreme that he hardly noticed how close they were. Apparently neither did Lance, who wore a big, dumb smile. 

“Wow, that really does rustle your jimmies, doesn’t it?” asked Lance, his breath hot on Keith’s face. 

“Do me a favor and never say that phrase again,” said Keith with a halfhearted eye-roll.

“What were you referring to again?” Lance asked, his smile widening. “Something about cradling?” 

“Actually I meant the ‘rustle your jimmies’ part, but that would be equally appreciated,” Keith said. 

With nothing left to say, the two fell silent, still awfully close to one another. Keith’s mind stuttered as he came to this realization, pulling back even further. The lack of heat fell heavy on Keith but it didn’t deter him from moving away. Even through the distracting cold, if Lance was going to mess with him, especially about something he was still touchy about, he would mess with him right back.

“But since you miraculously remember the cradling, that must mean you remember the bonding mo—“

“I brought breakfast!” said Lance. He mimicked Keith as he pulled away, reaching for the tray to his left. “I would say eat it while it’s hot but…” 

_That’s always going to be a lost cause, isn’t it?_

“How long were you gone for?” asked Keith. A sinking feeling in his chest told him it wasn’t long enough to constitute a cold spike. If he couldn’t handle a short period of time without Lance, he didn’t know how he would cope when piloting his lion. 

“I didn’t really keep track,” Lance admitted. His hands were busy rubbing the sides of the cup like it was a genie’s lamp, but Keith couldn’t find it in him to tease. Lance was doing it for his sake—even if he looked silly doing it. When he handed the cup to Keith, it was pleasantly hot to the touch. 

“But I swear if I knew that it would get this bad I never would have left,” said Lance. There was an earnestness in his tone that Keith got hung on. He was used to watching Lance flirt and get caught up in the occasional terrible joke, but not the guileless honesty. 

“You didn’t know, though,” said Keith in-between sips of his cocoa. “So it wasn’t your fault. Okay? No blaming yourself.”

It didn’t seem like a good idea to tell Lance about the weird wave of freezing death yet. Considering he had no idea what it even was, or if it would happen again, there was no point in scaring Lance. He stood by what he said; neither of them could control what happened next. Keith absently wondered if that was how waking up every morning was going to be, or if it was an intermittent occurrence. Either way, he was not looking forward to another cold spike.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one comforting you and not the other way around?” said Lance with a weak-willed huff. Keith smiled. 

“The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive,” he said. He had drained his cup and was leaning over Lance for the food when Lance caught his wrist. 

“Keith, buddy, I haven’t warmed up the food yet,” said Lance. Keith scoffed at that, shaking his arm. 

“I’ll take cold green goo over hot goop any day,” said Keith. Even so, Lance refused to release his hostage wrist. “Seriously, I don’t even want to imagine what that would taste like.”

“Au contraire, Keithy boy, I got some help from Hunk. Did you know he’s been working on recreating the solid foods we had back on Earth?” said Lance, picking up the tray. “Pidge and I decided once Hunk really has a handle on this, we’re making pizza. I mean, we already have Kaltenecker, so that’s a start.” 

Keith finally laid eyes on the plate of food. There was a strange type of rolled up bread covered in seeds that was paired with varying assortments of fruits and vegetables. It all had a greenish tint to it, but it did nothing to detract from the good smell it emanated. As long as it tasted good, he couldn’t care less what it looked like. Keith dug in. Unlike the goop Coran loved to serve, this dish was actually palatable. 

“Hunk is a _wizard_ ,” Keith murmured under his breath, scooping his breakfast into his mouth. It felt like years had passed since he had last eaten.

“Was that a joke I heard?” asked Lance. He was tempted to smile, but maintained his composure long enough to get out his next sentence. 

“What gave you that impression?” said Keith. “You know I would _never_ make a joke. Unlike you, I still have my self-respect.” 

“You say that like I had any to begin with,” said Lance. It was evident he was messing around but it threw Keith off. Lance wasn’t one for self-deprecating jokes. His humor was constantly filled to the brim with arrogance, there was not a smidge of doubt when Lance opened his mouth. Sure, it could be annoying at times, but when times got tough Lance never gave up hope. Keith would always respect him for that. 

“Oh, before I forget,” said Lance, skimming over his previous comment. “Allura called us all together for a little speech while you were asleep. You didn’t miss much, but we do have this celebration we gotta go to on Norvia tomorrow.” 

Keith was grateful for some time away from the ship. They were just starting day two and he felt like he was losing his mind. Missions were one of the two ways he distracted himself, the other being punching anything that ticked him off. It may not be the most _constructive_ way to take out his frustrations but it worked like a charm, so who was Shiro to tell him off for it?

“So…” drawled Keith. Lance watched him patiently. “Tomorrow we’re visiting the Nori, but what’s the plan for today?” 

“It’s up to you,” said Lance, shrugging his shoulders. “But if you’re asking me, I think we should ditch the research and try to figure out the limits of your… cold thing.” 

“Cold thing? Really?” he asked. With breakfast finished, Keith had no qualms scooting closer to Lance. “That’s seriously the best you could come up with?” 

“Wow, aggressive, but okay,” spoke a smiling Lance. “Spacethermia then.” 

“Definitely not.” 

“Blue balls.”

“Lance, I swear, I will punc—“ 

“Oh come on, there’s no need to give me the _cold shoulder,_ ” said Lance. He was going to smother Lance with his own pillow before he cracked—he refused to laugh at Lance’s abominable puns. 

_In fact…_

Keith reached for the nearest pillow, dragging it across the mattress before firmly grabbing it with both hands. Before Lance could catch on, Keith rammed the pillow directly into his face. A distinct choking sound left Lance, followed by a snort and quick retaliation. Lance grabbed his own pillow, only to be smacked again by Keith. It wasn’t long before the two were at an all-out battle with one another. The air was filled with laughter and oddly discolored feathers that had been discharged from their weapons of mass destruction. 

The two went on, dodging and rolling on the small bed space when necessary. They gradually grew to be way more into their little competition than children would be playing on the playground. It only came to a halt—and a sudden halt, at that—when Keith caught Lance mid-laugh. Lance’s face was flushed from overexertion, his arms stretched high over his head to expose his midriff, leaving him wide open as he held his pillow above him. 

But Keith couldn’t move. 

It wasn’t that he was frozen in place, so to speak. Rather, he was mesmerized by the sight before him. His own pillow fell uselessly to his side, his attention reserved entirely on Lance, and their competition long forgotten. Time seemed to return to normal, then speed up thrice-fold, before Keith got hit square in the chest. He had forgotten about the existence of the pillows entirely, tumbling back and falling off the bed. Lance wasn’t far behind him, his laugh still joyfully bouncing off the walls as he dropped on top of him. Keith choked as his breath caught in his throat. 

The two had grappled before; that was nothing new. What had changed, though, was the extreme warmth that spread outward from the boy straddling him. Lance was laughing even now, his blue eyes so tightly closed that his face crinkled up in glee. If there was a word that was a combination between overwhelming and _oh wow oh god oh please_ , this would be the perfect time to use it. Keith didn’t have much experience in the pious department, but he knew a religious experience when he saw one. 

“Lan-Lance,” he said, too in shock to cringe as his voice cracked. 

“Giving up, mullet?” hummed Lance. He felt each word as Lance said it. Bright blue eyes stared down at him in a silently amused question. 

“Your fat butt is… sitting on me,” Keith wheezed. “Get off.” 

“Only if you admit that I’m better than you in every way. And that I’m dashingly attractive,” said Lance, adding the last part as an afterthought. With crossed arms, Lance leaned down, awaiting victory. 

“I’d rather promise my first and second born to Zarkon,” said Keith, unrelenting. 

“Psh, as if any girl would ever date you,” he said. 

_More like as if I would date any girl._ Keith decided to save opening that can of worms another day, instead favoring an exaggerated eye-roll. 

“Uh huh, so are you going to get off of me or are we just going to sit here all day?” Keith asked. _Not that I’d mind._

“On one condition—“

“Nope.” 

“—you owe me one,” Lance said, finishing his sentence despite Keith. 

“I’ll pass,” said Keith. 

“W-what?” he said, in slight disbelief. “Seriously? You can’t just… I’m giving you an out, here, Keith!”

“And I’m respectfully declining,” said Keith. “I hope you enjoy sitting on me.”

 _Word choice. Word. Choice._ He could feel his cheeks heating up, and turned his head so he could face away from Lance. 

“…would owing me be that bad?” asked Lance, suddenly. Keith kept his head turned away, but couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him. 

“You know what? Sure,” said Keith. 

“‘Sure’… owing me would be that bad?” said Lance. 

“No idiot, I meant sure, I’ll owe you.”

“Seriously?” asked Lance, his distraught voice gone cheerful with excitement. Lance hopped up from his spot on top of Keith and cheered in place. “Haha, yes! Suck it, Keith!” 

“ _I_ was the one who agreed to it, dipstick!” 

“Yes, which makes you a loser,” said Lance, fist bumping the air. “You can’t take it back now!” Keith groaned, raising a hand to run it down his face. 

“Okay, can you just… help me up?” Keith asked. Lance’s hand swept down then, interlocking with Keith’s to tug him up. When Keith was up on his feet, Lance kept his hand in his. He tried to take back his hand but Lance wouldn’t relinquish it. Instead, Lance shook their hands together. 

“We shook on it,” said Lance. The corner of his mouth curved upwards into a tilted smile and he dropped their hands. Keith opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a mechanical hiss from the doorway.

“Guys, I think Matt and I came up with a new w—what… what’s going on?” said Pidge. She readjusted her glasses as she stood in the entrance. “Am I interrupting something?” 

“With mullet-boy? Funny.”

“Never in a million years.”

The two spoke at the same time, talking over each other. Keith and him traded looks and then both looked to Pidge. She stared at them strangely, clearly unconvinced. 

“Uhhhh huh,” she said. “Well then, meet us in the training room as soon as possible. Matt is finalizing the configurations to our new rig. We think it’ll help us measure Keith’s condition, maybe even minimize its effects.”

“How did you…?” said Lance, wondering out loud. 

“That was fast, like, _really_ fast,” Keith said. Her eyes lit up at that. Pidge getting her brother back was one of the few miracles Keith was grateful for. 

“Right! Isn’t Matt awesome?” she said. Pidge seemed to catch herself, clearing her throat before going on. “But, yeah. We’ll be waiting.” 

After making her announcement, Pidge left without another word. There was a certain pep to her step that was infectious though, and it left Keith excited. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to wake up the same way he did today. For the first time since this all started, he held out his hand for Lance to take, more confident in his condition than he was before. Lance watched him for a short moment, then reached out and took Keith’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this chapter was a bit lackluster, but i’ve been seriously preoccupied the past few weeks. again, it’s my fault. i’m super sorry guys, but thankfully my hiatus is coming to an end, so i’ll be posting wayyy more regularly.   
> like usual, i hope you enjoyed. feel free to comment below!  
> <3


	4. cold overexposure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> along with his spacethermia, our poor red boy suffers from a telltale case of stupidity.  
> of course, only around Lance.  
> meanwhile, his blue counterpart attempts to understand the gay agenda.  
> am i taking this seriously? nope.  
> should i? yes.  
> but _will_ i? no. very much no. 
> 
> okay, but seriously, i hope you guys enjoy

“You really think this is going to work?” asked Keith. 

The weight of the wired helmet hung heavy on top of Keith’s head. Matt had explained it was a modified version of what the paladins used to practice their mind-melding skills. It helped when forming Voltron, but having his thoughts broadcasted on a screen in front of the team was more uncomfortable than walking in wet socks. Keith could only hope this wasn’t as revealing. 

“Nope,” said Matt. 

Lance met his gaze, and the two shared incredulous glances. Matt, meanwhile, didn’t seem to notice, completely enamored by his work. His sister was by his side, equally enveloped in their invention. What Keith thought of this whole debacle seemed to be last on the Holts’ list of concerns. 

“Comforting,” said Keith in a huff. 

“Aren’t I?” said Matt. He was busy readjusting the position of his device, but still made the time to smile down at a sitting Keith. 

“So how is this supposed to help him?” Lance interjected, stepping forward. Keith took his concern with a grain of salt, already very familiar with Lance wanting to distance himself from him. 

“Well, in theory, it’s supposed to analyze and pinpoint the effects of his forcibly induced space hypothermia,” said Matt. 

“Ha-ha!” said Lance, pointing at a startled Matt. “Spacethermia triumphs!” 

“I don’t care what anyone else says, I refuse to call it that,” said Keith. With a lazy eye roll, he averted his attention back to Matt. 

“Okay, all systems are a go! Initiate program A dash three version two,” said Matt, shooting his sister a thumbs up. 

There’s a moments pause they all wait in anticipation. The others watch him, expecting a reaction, but Keith isn’t sure what he’s meant feel. Matt jittered in place, circling him and watching for any changes. The attention only amplified his trepidation. 

“Is something supposed to… happen?” said Keith. 

“I’m not… entirely sure,” said Matt. His admission was hushed but not shy. His focus seemed to be elsewhere, his eyes glazed over as he stared blankly at the headset Keith wore. He began pacing once again.  
“It was supposed to read and analyze your brainwaves,” said Matt, mostly muttering to himself. “That way, we could figured out if it’s some form of psychosomatic illness or maybe a… placebo effect. So if it’s a definitive illness there’s a definitive cure. But that won’t work unless— _oh!_ ” 

At this point, Lance was sat beside Keith, looking equally as befuddled. Keith had to admit he was grateful for Lance’s presence; he felt less lost with him around. The two shared a look as Matt continued to stare at them. His gaze darted between Lance and Keith, almost ominously. The stress in his gut was building. 

“You guys need to touch or do… whatever it is you guys do,” said Matt. A cold bolt of shock shuddered down Keith’s spine, a feeling he desperately tried to ignore. 

“Wait, what? Why?” asked Lance. He had noticeably scooted away to create a bolster of space between them. Matt had already turned his back, muttering something to himself and pointing to one of the monitors Pidge was working on. 

“We have to see what happens when you intervene. To see how Keith’s brainwaves react when you two are in contact with one another,” said Pidge, answering for her brother. When neither of them moved, she spoke up again. 

“C’mon, can’t you just hold hands for a second?” she said. 

There was a sigh from Lance, sounding almost like a low whine, and Keith looked to him in curiosity. Lance had extended his hand in a familiar gesture, his gaze entirely too focused on the vaulted ceiling above them. Keith noticed his heart was beating for the first time in a long time. He put a pin in the realization for now, reminding himself to ask about that later. Keith attempted to suppress his trembling hand as he took Lance’s. The reaction was instant. Heat flooded him, defrosting the crystalline cells in his bloodstream. As if he could feel what Keith felt, Matt gasped at the code that appeared on Pidge’s screens. It all looked like hieroglyphs to Keith. 

“That’s insanely cool,” said Pidge. 

“He’s _actually_ feeling heat,” said Matt. His eyes were even wider than his sister’s, despite her glasses. “It isn’t contrived brain signals, it’s real. Almost like it’s a…”

“Magical curse,” Pidge offered. She didn’t seem convinced, but the sound of awe in her voice was not lost upon Keith. 

“Would you guys mind hugging? I want to test a theory,” said Matt. 

“ _Yes!_ I very much _do_ mind, thank you!” said Lance. 

He stood up so abruptly that he pulled Keith up in the process, and he nearly tumbled over before catching himself. Lance detached his hand from Keith’s, too late to take back what he had done, and threw his arms in the air in exasperation. Pidge left her screen of running code and intercrossing wavelengths to give Lance a cold stare. 

“Oh, it’s fine. For a second there I was getting worried you actually cared for your teammates,” she said. Lance opened his mouth to retaliate but said nothing. 

Keith saw that Lance was visibly uncomfortable, and Keith couldn’t blame him. He felt the same. Being in this situation would stress anyone out—let alone two teenagers lightyears away from home who were fighting for the sake of the universe. There was no reason to prolong the inevitable, however embarrassing. Keith breathed in short, broken breaths that acted as a terrifying resemblance to his morning cold attack. He pushed forward nonetheless and hugged Lance from behind. His breath was still somewhat labored, but Keith felt marginally better when Lance’s chest hitched. Everything else melted away into the background and Keith pressed his forehead in the space between Lance’s shoulder blades. 

“Holy shit,” said Pidge. 

“Woah,” said Matt, in sync with her. 

Keith concentrated on the rapid rise and fall of Lance’s chest, finding the simple, repetitive motion soothing. He wanted nothing more than to apologize, but knew now wasn’t the time. If anything, it would make the situation even more awkward. He zoned out so efficiently that when he heard Matt grow louder, he jolted and accidentally tightened his grip on Lance’s shirt. 

“—but _what_ makes certain situations more potent then? Is it proximity? Maybe his perspective of the situation?” said Matt, rambling on. 

Guessing it was a good time, Keith stepped away, moving to be by the blue paladin’s side. He pointedly avoided any looks sent his way from Lance, watching Matt instead. All of his nerves still tingled from the warmth. As sudden as Matt’s voice had come into existence, it went away, leaving the world unusually quiet. Keith could practically see the lightbulb going off behind Matt’s bright eyes as he turned to his sister. He whispered something of apparent meaning, as she too freaked out. 

“ _Holy shit,_ ” she repeated, only quieter this time. 

_Okay, that is definitely not a good sign._

“What’s going on?” asked Lance in a strained voice. 

“Oh, woah, guys, chill,” said Matt, beginning to laugh a bit at their mutual freak-out. “Nothing bad, don’t worry. I just realized there’s a bug in the program. I asked Pidge to corroborate my theory and she just checked.” He looked to her, expectant, and she perked up. 

“Yep. We have to run another diagnostic and fix up the remaining errors we missed the first time around. Sorry guys,” Pidge said. 

The tension evaporated from the room after that, with Matt returning his attention to Pidge to debrief her. Lance relaxed next to Keith, and the two of them stayed like that until Matt walked over to them. He reminded Keith that he still had to take off the helmet _himself,_ he emphasized, openly acknowledging how reckless Keith was. Keith didn’t argue. Without any reason to worry anymore, Lance was back to his old self and vocally announced his boredom. He didn’t want to wait around, as Matt had made it very clear how long ‘unplugging Keith’ would take. In the end, he decided he would be hang out with Hunk while he waited. 

The moment the doors had shut on Lance’s way out, Matt’s smile dropped. 

“You like Lance.” 

Keith’s heart fell in his chest and crashed painfully onto the tile of the castle’s floor. He had forgotten how to breathe. His eyes met Matt’s, and he desperately hoped he didn’t look as alarmed as he felt. He could play it cool, right? 

_Where is this coming from?_

“Wh-what do you mean?” said Keith. 

“Matt!” said Pidge. She had abandoned her station to scold her brother. “You can’t just—“ 

“It’s for _science,_ Pidge!” he said, then paused. “…and also because holy shit, you like Lance?” 

Keith frantically looked back through his most recent memories, like he was playing an old film in reverse. He had so many questions. How had Matt figured it out? Was it _that_ obvious? If Matt had figured him out within minutes, did Lance know? His heart refused to beat like it had earlier, instead remaining frozen in fear. 

“Why… would you think that?” said Keith. 

“One, because of the intimacy indicator, which is going to be its name from now on,” said Matt. He motioned meaningfully at Pidge, as if expecting her to take notes. She wasn’t. 

“And two, because you haven’t denied it,” said Matt, going on. Keith opened his mouth to do just that, only to be shut down by Matt again. 

“And three, if you try to deny it now, I’ll know you’re lying anyway because of the intimacy factor.” Keith couldn’t tell if Matt had switched the name on accident or if he was juggling his options. 

“The _what_ now?” Keith asked. He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t see the point in defending himself with such a self-assured Matt in his way. 

“Well, I noticed that the more intimate Lance got the warmer you felt, and I highly—and I mean _highly_ —doubt that was a coincidence. I’m sure it’s tied in to the weird curse thing,” said Matt. Pidge was nodding along thoughtfully. 

“I’d prefer to call it the ‘gay indicator,’ but then again, calling it the intimacy indicator does sound more professional,” said Pidge. 

Keith stood there, face heated as the Holts called him out on his gay shit. His panic refused to subside. Deep within his chest, the guilt that had been planted the moment this had all started began to fall out into the open. It was, without a doubt, the most unbearable discomfort he had ever felt. 

“Guys, I _swear,_ I’m not—I’m not taking advantage of him—this—the… the problem I have. I’m not going to… I’m going to do the bare minimum to stay alive until we find a cure. Okay? I promise,” said Keith, speaking too fast for his own mouth. Matt’s kind smile returned. 

“We know that, Keith. You’re not that kind of guy,” said Matt. 

“We’re just… worried,” Pidge chimed in, picking her words carefully. “You don’t think that maybe you should… tell him?” 

“Oh my god, no. Do you know what would happen?” said Keith. 

“The world would end,” Pidge answered, giving him a flat look. He countered by narrowing his eyes and throwing her a glare. 

“Seriously, Pidge, Lance would never forgive me. Remember what happened the first _and last_ time we got along? He ‘forgot’ about it and we went back to hating each other and back to the constant fighting and there is _no_ way he’s going to get over this. He’s going to think… he’s—“ Keith halted midway through his rant. He needed a sharp intake of breath to continue because Lance was genuinely going to murder him. He was going to catch him off guard and hurl him out of an airlock when no one’s looking, and the worst part was that he totally deserved it. 

“He’s going to think I took advantage of him,” Keith finished. A hand came down on his shoulder and he looked up at a solemn yet determined Matt. For a moment, he saw a flicker of Shiro in him. 

“No, he’s not, because we’re going to help you,” said Matt. 

Keith’s chest was heaving from ranting nonstop and he was sure his brain was so oxygen deprived that he was hallucinating, because this was not happening. They wouldn’t help him, they shouldn’t help him. He was the bad guy here, so he asked the only question he could muster. 

“Why?” Keith said. It was so quiet and sad, and he hadn’t realized how desperate he was for a dose of serious honesty and help until now. Out of the blue, Pidge spoke up. 

“Remember when I tried to leave Voltron to go out on my own and look for my family?” said Pidge. Keith turned to her, and after taking a deep, halting breath, he nodded. She went on. 

“I’m glad you stopped me. I mean, I was pissed off because I thought saving the universe meant abandoning my brother and my dad but… that wasn’t the case. I got them back, Keith, but that wasn’t all,” she said, leveling her guileless stare. “I found a family in the process. Because that’s what you guys are to me, it’s what you’ve become. Family.” 

“Pidge…” said Keith. 

He could hardly stand it. He had only ever had Shiro before, and even then he was terrified of losing him. He still was, but it was different now. He wasn’t the only one looking after the people he cared about. His breathing evened out and, finally, since the start of this space nightmare, he knew he wasn’t alone. Shiro was here and helping where he could, but he always did. Now, he had Pidge and Matt too. Pidge was right. They were his family in everything but blood. 

“Thank you,” Keith said, voice overwhelmed with emotion. He hadn’t realized how much of a toll this had been on him. 

“I’m going to take that helmet off of you now, because you look like a two-bit Kerrigan from Starcraft and I just can’t take you seriously anymore,” said Matt. His hands moved over the wires in an ept fashion, tugging and pulling when necessary. Pidge’s eyes had immediately gone wide. 

“Oh man,” she said. “He really does.” 

“So, what’s the plan?” Keith asked, rather than voice him not getting Matt’s reference. Keith had come to expect references being lost on him. 

“Well, as you know, we head down to Norvia tomorrow. You guys are already coming, but I think it’d be a good idea if you get yourself checked out by someone down there. You know, since they’d actually know what’s going on with you and how to fix it,” said Matt. There was a break in his explanation as he gingerly pulled off Keith’s helmet. Handing it to Pidge, he went on. 

“They tend to be pretty private—I could barely find any information about them for quiznak’s sake—so I doubt they’d talk openly to nosy strangers,” said Matt. “But you, you have whatever disease they’re familiar with down there, so I’d be willing to bet they’d sympathize. At the very least, you might get some valuable info.” 

“But what about Lance? I don’t want to risk him finding out about… certain _aspect_ of my predicament,” Keith said, looking down at his hands. They were already losing heat. 

“That’s where we come in. We’ll distract him for you during the celebration after the main ceremony. I’m sure we’ll have some free time then, which will serve as the perfect opening for your exit,” said Matt. Though Keith was skeptical, Pidge added in one final thought. 

“Trust us, Keith. We got your back,” she said. Keith smiled; he knew he was in good hands.

———

Finding Lance had been a breeze. Like Lance had said, he was with Hunk. Though their location had been a mystery until Keith had stumbled upon it, the lions’ hangar wasn’t an unexpected meet-up place. Lance was in the middle of laughing at what Keith could only assume was a joke when he arrived. He stopped in his tracks, staring from where he stood in the wide doorway. Lance’s head was tilted back slightly and his eyes were crinkled shut with delight. It was a look that was never, and certainly would never, be directed at him.

Keith was tempted to leave him there in that moment. He contemplated handing over the reigns of decision making to his guilt, and to completely abandon any prospect of warmth until he was quite literally on his deathbed. Considering his recent tide of bad decisions, he doubted it would be long. He almost succeeded at walking away, too, before he heard Lance call out his name. He turned around in time for Lance’s hand to grab his. The shame burrowed deep within him builds to meet his rising body temperature, and Keith pulled away. He knew he had no other choice. So, he ignored the shocked, almost despondent look Lance gave him when he stepped back towards the corridor. 

“Keith? What’s wrong?” asked Lance. 

Keith knew what was wrong. Lance was calling him by name instead of silly nickname, Lance was instinctively reaching out to him, and above all, Lance was worried about him. _This_ was wrong. Every bit of it. It was time Keith reverted to what he had always done and cut ties. He had to fix this and he would do it alone. 

“I was actually planning on going to train with Shiro for a little bit, so I can’t stay,” said Keith, the lie coming to him easily. “I missed our training session this morning when I slept in and it left me feeling out of it.” 

Hunk was watching their interaction intently from a few feet away, but Keith paid him no mind. There was nothing going on after all. There was nothing to read in-between the lines. Lance seemed to register what Keith’s said because he’s nodding. 

“Gotcha, okay. Well, I’ll be here if you need me,” Lance said. He was wringing his hands in a way that was far from subtle. “Are you sure you’re not going to be cold without me? After this morning, I… I don’t mind tagging along if you want.” 

_God, are those puppy dog eyes?_ Keith wondered in undisguised horror. He had messed up, and bad. 

“Well, I mind,” Keith snapped, frustrated that Lance couldn’t take a hint. Lance recoiled, his face going through too many emotions at once to identify. Keith wanted to make this easy, but unsurprisingly, his quickness to anger got the best of him. Again. It was time to backtrack. 

“I… I just need some time by myself,” said Keith. A thought came to him and he added it in without a second thought. “Plus, I think I’m getting better, so I don’t need you hanging around all the time. Just enjoy your day off.” 

Keith finished with a small smile, which seemed to be enough. Lance gave a short and quiet ‘okay’ and shot him a smile. Keith was going to miss that. With a sharp pang to his chest, he doubted Lance would bother with him once this was over. He stepped over the threshold, and with one final look to Lance, Keith walked away.

———

The rest of his ‘day off’ passed with Keith avoiding Lance. Rather than give himself an alibi by training with Shiro, Keith had locked himself in his room. Lance knew this because he had actually gone to talk to Shiro and ask how Keith was doing, only to find Shiro hadn’t seen him all day. No one had, since he left the lions’ hangar. He had noticed that Keith tried not to arouse suspicion and occupied himself whenever he was around. He was probably hoping whatever he was doing was enough of an excuse for Lance to leave him alone. Lance gave him the space he had wanted, but he didn’t understand. Keith’s avoidant attitude extended all the way until after dinner. By then, Lance had been reasonably fed up.

Dinner passed with a painful lethargy to it. To the rest of the team, however, lively conversation and excitement for tomorrow was in abundance. Lance spoke when spoken to, but other than that, he spent all of dinner trying to catch Keith’s attention. It had been a fruitless venture. He finally caught Keith as he was leaving the dinning room, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him into one of the corridor’s small alcoves. 

“Lance, what are you doing?” Keith hissed at him, twisting out of his grip. Lance grabbed at him again before the boy could make a run for it. He knew what to expect by now. 

“I’m fixing whatever I did wrong,” said Lance. All his irritation that had built up over the day rose to the top of his mind but he pressed it down. There was no fighting fire with fire when the red paladin was involved. 

“What are you _talking_ about?” said Keith. His dark eyes were so packed with vitriolic flame that it was palpable. “What did you do wrong?”

“I was hoping you could tell me that, because I have no freaking clue,” Lance said. 

Keith grumbled, once again tugging his arm, successfully escaping his grasp, and backing up into the hall. Lance went to warn him but was too late, and Keith forcefully backed up—directly into Shiro. Their leader grunted and Lance watched as Keith turned a pale tone that rivaled even his spacetermia. Lance was sure he wasn’t in a much better condition. The boys locked eyes, knowing at all costs they had to avoid a lecture, even if that meant begrudgingly working together. 

“Is there a problem?” asked Shiro, the question directed at Lance. He eyed the two of them, though mostly Lance, his gaze a warning gesture. Lance reached out to grab for Keith, this time going to intertwine their hands. With a short tug, Keith was by his side. 

“Nope, not at all! Isn’t that right, _sweetheart_?” said Lance. Keith narrowed his eyes but didn’t do more to retaliate. 

“Lance is being annoying as usual, but we’re fine, Shiro, really,” said Keith. Shiro was unconvinced. Even so, he gave Lance one more warning look before heading to leave. 

“Okay then, goodnight you two,” Shiro said with a wave. 

Keith took his hand back and put distance between them the moment Shiro was out of view. Lance tried not to be bothered by the ping of pain it caused. With that, the two silently walked together to Lance’s room. He hoped that, at least, Keith wouldn’t fight him on where they would be sleeping tonight. They didn’t speak until they’ve gone through the motions of changing, brushing their teeth, and getting in bed. Unlike last night, Keith had actually taken off his fanny pack, which included his Marmoran blade. Lance scolded himself for noticing a detail so specific. 

There was a gap between them where there wasn’t before, and to Lance it felt like the Grand Canyon separated them. They were both lying on their backs, staring up at the blank ceiling above, and neither spoke. Unsure of how to start this conversation again, Lance thought about their recent interactions; he would have liked to think their relationship had grown. Keith had actually, genuinely _smiled_ at him, when before he was the proverbial punching bag for Keith’s anger. Now that he thought about it, their conversations didn’t end in fistfights, either. Lance hoped it wasn’t short-lived—which was _not_ because their getting alone meant Shiro had stopped condemning him to clean pods with Coran. 

Lance enjoyed Keith’s company, he concluded, even though he knew it was a one-way street. He wondered if he could maintain this limbo with Keith, then remembered their situation now. Keith could barely manage a day with him, and that was only because his other alternative was freezing to death. Lance let out an audible sigh, turning his head to look at Keith. 

“I’m sorry it had to be me,” Lance muttered. Keith doesn’t turn to him, but Lance can see his profile scrunch up. 

“You shouldn’t apologize. It’s not your fault,” said Keith, his voice just as hushed. “I know that you’d be the last person in the universe to voluntarily put yourself in this position.” 

“Seriously? In the entire universe?” said Lance. He couldn’t help but be affronted. “You think Zarkon would be more of a willing cuddle buddy than the one and only Lancey Lance?” 

“One, do not call yourself that,” Keith said. “Two, yes. In fact, not only would he be willing, he’d be better at it than you.” 

Lance gasped, the noise dramatic but forceful. He had to manually stop his mouth from twitching upwards. He was supposed to be offended, after all. 

“How _dare_ —“ 

“I imagine he’d give hugs like Hunk and be infinitely better at romance than you, too,” said Keith. “I’d bet he’d give me a ship. The most you’ve ever done for me is throw a slice of burnt toast at my face over breakfast.” Lance could see Keith breaking, his own jokes getting to him. Lance couldn’t blame him, he was already laughing. 

“Oh my _god,_ ” said Lance between bouts of laughs. 

The edges of their pinky fingers touched, and Lance hadn’t realized until now that they had been edging closer to one another. Who had been responsible, Lance had no idea. His breath caught in his throat as he waited. Keith didn’t pull away—he was still chuckling. Once he noticed Lance’s quiet, though, he followed suit. 

“Hey, I’m sorry too,” said Keith. 

“What for?” 

“For complicating everything, I guess,” Keith said, shrugging. 

“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” said Lance, trying his luck. “If you would just tell me when you’re cold and not freak out anytime I try to help, I don’t think we’d have any problems.” 

There’s a pregnant pause between them. He focused on controlling his breathing while he waited. Lance wondered if Keith fell asleep, preparing to be insulted, when the other boy spoke up. 

“I’m cold.” 

Not for the first time, Lance found himself staring openly at Keith’s stunning profile. Keith didn’t return the gesture and simply stared at the ceiling. Breathing in broken inhales of air, he gently reached out to hold Keith’s hand. When Lance fumbled, Keith did the last thing he would have expected and initiated contact. With a smoothness Lance had only seen from him in battle, Keith connected their hands. Lance averted his stare downwards, his eyes drawn to the way their hands looked pressed together. This time felt different and somehow… more intimate. 

_Maybe it’s because we’re not in a public setting? Or because we’re in my bed alone?_

It didn’t matter regardless. He could barely hear his thoughts over the blood rushing through his ears. The questioning kept Lance up until he heard faint snoring coming from his side. He wasn’t sure how long he had been lost in thought, but it had apparently been long enough for Keith to fall asleep. Lance swooned at how soft Keith looked when asleep, his heart doing miniature somersaults with every snore. It was ridiculously embarrassing and had Lance catching himself. He aggressively shoved away the thoughts back into his mental closet where they belonged, knowing he shouldn’t be thinking like that. When Lance does fall asleep, his hand remained clutched in Keith’s.

———

Lance woke up early, but not early enough to beat Keith to the punch. Although Keith was asleep, seeing him unintentionally wrapped up in his arms was a punch to the gut. He cursed himself, hating that even in his sleep, Keith threw the first punch. Objectively speaking, of course, sleeping Keith was adorable. This wasn’t something Lance thought of or agreed with, though, obviously.

Normally, he would wake Keith up after a moment or two of totally-not-weird-staring-it’s-just-for-blackmail kind of thing, but today was different. For some reason, all he could focus on was Keith’s lips. Before he could even begin to understand _why,_ Lance found himself instinctively reaching out, as if in a trance. By the time his common sense kicked in, it was too late. 

His thumb was already pressed up against Keith’s lower lip, and he can’t help but be mesmerized. Then, like an act of spite from this universe’s gods, Lance's heart plummeted as his anxiety shot it down from his chest. Keith had opened his eyes. 

_NatUraLLy thErE’S nO nEED TO PANIC,_ he reminded himself, his inner voice screeching in an ungodly tone. Lance had always been fast on his feet; he could handle this. 

Keith was still groggy, his mind taking a long time to register what was happening before hitting him. His eyes widened exponentially as he stared up at Lance but he didn’t pull away. Lance said the first excuse that came to mind. 

“You drool in your sleep,” said Lance. Keith blinked slow, patently unsure about how to react, as Lance’s thumb was still on his lip. Lance quickly jerked his hand away. 

“I have never once drooled in my sleep,” Keith shot back. Lance couldn’t admit the real reason—because he didn’t really understand the why himself, so he kept up the charade. 

“Uh, yeah, you totally do,” he said. 

“And the first thing that came to mind was to touch my lips?” asked Keith, raising a brow. 

Lance tried to ignore the heat rising to the tips of his ears. He refused to break eye contact. If he wanted Keith to believe his act, he was going to have to believe in it himself first. 

“Uhm, duh,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t crack. “Don’t want you drooling all over my precious pillows.” 

“Lance, we all share the exact same kind of pil—“ Keith said, but was abruptly cut off. Lance, once again, made the same mistake. In a mindless act, he reached out, a finger pressing up against Keith’s mouth to hush him. 

“Shh! They’re _my_ pillows, so they’re automatically more special, thank you very much,” he said. 

This time, Keith didn’t seem in the slightest bit shocked. It ebbed Lance’s panic, so now all he had to deal with was an annoyed Keith instead. The other boy made a disgruntled sound and persistently tugged at Lance’s hand, until he was able to open his mouth and speak. 

“Whatever,” Keith murmured, sitting up to realize one of Lance’s arms was still wrapped around him. The two were quick to jump away from one another after that. 

“What time is it?” said Keith. He reached for one of the tablets that had found a home by his bedside. “Do I have time to shower before we go planet side or did you let me sleep in again?” Lance was relieved with how fast his slip-up left their conversation. 

“How is you sleeping in _my_ fault?” he said. Keith didn’t answer, his attention elsewhere. Lance relented with a hefty sigh, standing up to use the bathroom first. 

“You can use your own shower, okay?” Lance said. Keith nodded, still glued to the screen as he swiped away. 

The sudden silence was strange. Lance knew it wasn’t the silent treatment because Keith wasn’t acting coldly towards him. In the end, he chalked it up to Keith not being a talkative morning person—or a talkative person in general. It didn’t matter. By the time he had come to a conclusion, he had already left Keith in his room.

———

When Lance had gone, Keith had scrambled out of his room as soon as he could possibly manage. He had been too busy being buried underneath the one, insanely huge realization to keep up a conversation with Lance. Even the tablet in front of him had been a sad attempt to disguise his shock. All his attention was focused on one sole thought. He didn’t dare say it until he was in his own room though, his back sliding down against his locked door. He hadn’t even realized he had taken one of the tablets with him in the process.

“That’s the warmest I’ve ever felt,” he whispered to himself, and he was horrified. Alone in his room, he felt compelled to answer the question he didn’t answer in front of Lance.

 _I_ want _it to be your fault, but I know it’s not. I tried to push him away and I just fell even further. This is my fault._ Keith shut his eyes and let his head fall back against his door. 

“I still have a chance,” Keith said, as if saying it aloud made it true. “Today I’m going to figure out what the hell’s wrong with me, and then I’m going to fix it.” 

His words prompted a horrible and violent reaction from his body, which had begun to tense up like it had been dunked into a tub of ice. Keith instantly recognized the cold spike. There was a slight window of chance where Keith could have called for help between his bursts of hyperventilation, but he did nothing. He couldn’t call for Lance. Even though Lance expected him to tell him when he felt cold, this wasn’t the same. These uncontrollable moments felt too close to the kinds of panic attacks he got when Shiro first went missing on the Kerberos mission. The only noticeable difference was the debilitating cold that came with it. With no other options available to him but wait for it to pass, Keith folded in on himself. 

“I have to fix this.” His eyes were already closed, so he resorted to whispering his words like a mantra. Maybe if he said it enough times, it would come true. “I have to fix this. I _have to fix this. I have to fix this. I have to fix this._ ” He didn’t have much of a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i understand that the angst may want you to boil your fingers until they swell up like small burnt hot dogs, so that you’ll never be able to click on this crack fic ever again, but. BUT. there shall be much fluff to make up for it in the next chapter, i promise.  
> as usual, feel free to tell me what you thought in the comments.  
> it’s always a blast to talk to you guys :)


	5. balls of a different variety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you thought of smth dirty when reading the title, shame on you ~~jk im very proud~~
> 
> unrelated to this update but the s8 trailer had me quaking  
> can’t believe vld is ending soon. rip  
> it’s cool tho, i’ll keep posting my shit content lmao  
> hope you enjoy fam

Keith was beginning to come to grips with just how appalling his situation had become. The cold spikes were indisputably _not_ going away, and the last thing he wanted to do was tell Lance. After his mortifying display the other morning, he refused to embarrass himself all over again. 

_I still can’t believe I asked him to_ hold _me. Seriously, am I really that pathetic?_ he wondered to himself. 

_God… it felt nice while it lasted, though…_ another, more repressed part of him noted. Keith physically shook his head in hopes of throwing off the thoughts. It didn’t work. 

However, he was not beginning to come to grips with the _actual_ situation. 

Following his shower and stepping out to meet the others in the navigation room, his gloved hands continued to tremble. It was frustrating. Even clenching his fists in an effort to stop the shaking was futile. The attempt was like trying to get his teeth to stop chattering—another development that had become commonplace as of late. There was one silver lining Keith could appreciate, though. 

Lance had appeared by his side the moment he entered the room, sliding his hand into Keith’s with ease. A ripple of warmth crackled through him and Keith shivered. Albeit Keith secretly despised seeing Lance’s affections offered to random, attractive women, he didn’t mind it when said affections were directed at him. It was only because he wasn’t used to physical affection, Keith assured himself. Naturally it had nothing to do with Lance himself. 

_That would be ridiculous,_ Keith thought with absolutely no certainty whatsoever. _Totally, one hundred percent ridiculous._

Then Lance squeezed his hand, gentle but firm, sending another jolt of heat down his spine. Keith’s eyes fluttered shut for a passing moment before he caught himself. Giving himself a silent, robust admonishment, Keith refocused on Allura. She was across the room, the whole interaction between the two paladins going—blissfully—unnoticed as she spoke. He picked up on the last word, trying to ignore the heat rushing his frozen limbs. 

“Keep in mind that this area of the star system is completely untouched by the Galra, and the space pirates that are here are too far from us to be a concern,” Allura said. She was tapping absently on a screen in front of her, dividing her attention between the paladins and the screen. 

“So… we’re safe?” asked Hunk. 

“For now,” said Allura with a curt nod. 

“Does that mean we can forego wearing our armor?” Pidge asked. It was no secret that the armor was uncomfortable in such a casual setting. Allura looked ready to decline her request when Shiro jumped in. 

“It _is_ an aristocratic ball,” Shiro said. “Wouldn’t formal wear be required?” She paused, then sighed. 

“I suppose…” she replied, giving in. 

Pidge rejoiced at that, earning a loud high five from Hunk, proceeded by a short embrace. Lance, meanwhile, whooped with such zeal that Keith could feel it from where their hands connected. A small smile broke out onto Keith’s lips as a result. For as annoying and rowdy as Lance could be, Keith couldn’t deny how unintentionally endearing he found him because of it. 

The return trip to Norvia was prompt and held an air of peacefulness. Even Keith found himself relaxing when they touched down on the tropical planet. The team wasn’t near the Nori Palace or inner city. Allura explained the citizens might be overwhelmed by the sight of a palace-like space craft, so they opted for a less extravagant entrance. Instead, they had settled the Castle along a beach not unlike the one they had landed on the first time they came here. They didn’t take their Lions, as no one was staying behind in the Castle. 

They were all in suits, excluding the princess and Pidge—for wildly dissenting reasons. While the Altean princess was adorned in an elegant silk dress with a tail that flowed down her back and to the floor, Pidge’s attire was far from formal. The green paladin refused to get near a dress with an intimidating verve and struggled to find a suit in her size. As a result, she ended up staying in her casual clothes, much to Shiro’s aversion. 

Keith had difficulty paying attention to Pidge and Shiro’s back and forth though, as his focus was elsewhere. More specifically, his wandering gaze had honed in on Lance. Somehow, he had found the time to slick back his hair and pick one of the planet’s abundant blue roses to match the suit’s pocket square it was pressed up against. Keith marveled at the boy and his brilliant smile as he greeted a group of fawning alien girls. 

A heated spark imbedded itself in Keith’s gut, but it was significantly different from the warmth he felt when he came in contact with Lance. This was jealousy. In spite of the fact that the feeling was not unusual or new when Keith saw Lance flirt, it was more potent than usual. Keith reckoned it had something to do with the fact that he had grown closer with Lance in such a short period of time. The private acknowledgement evoked the memory of their long-forgotten bonding moment; it was a stunningly familiar situation where they came together in a life-threatening situation. 

Lance met Keith’s gaze, and Keith started, goosebumps running down his skin as he turned away. Thankfully, Lance didn’t get the chance to say anything. It was the moment Keith had gotten caught that their means of transportation had arrived. It vaguely resembled a limo, if a limo had oversized wheels meant for rough turf and an open roof. They were going to see the King and Queen, the guide informed them, before they went to the ball. 

While the elders of Norvia were the highest ranking officials and most respected, there was also a monarchy that served more as a symbol of power than anything. Similar to a Japanese emperor in the Edo period or the Queen of the United Kingdom, the Nori monarchs were part of a constitutional monarchy that leaned more towards the former of the two in terms of power. Meaning to say, Nori kings and queens had no power in legislation. Ultimately, the elders were the ones with power. Learning all this from their guide was a bit overwhelming, Keith could admit. Pidge, Allura, Shiro, and Coran, meanwhile, ranged from nodding enthusiastically to politely listening along. She was a Nori citizen herself, her vast knowledge of her homeland evident. 

Keith opted to stare out the window the rest of the drive, which was a bad idea that Keith pursued anyway. It was a bad idea because Lance sat to his side with an elbow comfortably propped up on the open window to stare outside wistfully. Keith pursued it anyway because, frankly, he could sneak furtive glances with a good backup excuse. He was only looking out the window, after all. Not something Lance could fault him for—especially when he was doing the same. Keith would have kept at it, too, if it weren’t for one of the guide’s words that caught his attention. 

“Our annual celebration brings all Nori inhabitants to commemorate the search and unification of those in love,” the guide said. “But it is also a celebration of the endowment of our elders as well.” 

“The endowment of your elders?” Keith repeated, actively perking up. 

Matt seemed to catch on, unlike the rest of the team. His curiosity had spurred him away from his tablet to listen to the guide. The guide seemed a bit taken aback, considering Keith hadn’t spoken or paid attention to her since she arrived. She dealt with the surprise quickly, though. 

“Yes,” the guide replied. “Our elders bestow upon lucky citizens many gifts. Foreigners can receive these gifts as well, in rare circumstances, but both end up with happy recipients.” 

_Oh, I highly doubt that,_ Keith thought, speaking from personal experience. 

“What kinds of gifts?” Matt asked, setting aside the tablet on a free seat. “And is there a possibility of getting a gift retracted?” 

The guide gasped as if a hand had been laid on her. She sounded genuinely affronted, and attracted the attention of everyone in the vehicle. Matt went stiff as Allura and Shiro, the ever-diplomatic types, were ready to rise to the occasion and apologize for any offense. 

“You do not _return_ a gift from the elders,” she said, voice low. “It is an honor in and of itself.” 

“My deepest apologies, Rel’ain,” Shiro said. Keith hadn’t realized the guide introduced herself earlier. “We ask because we want to learn, not because we mean to offend.” 

Shiro shot Matt a meaningful look. For being as smart as he was, there was no question Matt got the message, instead preferring to rebel against Shiro’s silent demand. In response, Shiro not-so-subtly elbowed Matt, earning a gasp from the other. 

“ _A-ah_ —yeah! I’m… I’m really sorry,” said Matt, trying to play off his gasp of surprise. 

The guide grunted, not pleased but placated. She no longer spoke, either. Keith had more questions, but even he was socially ept enough to know the opportunity to get answers had long past. Annoyed, howbeit far from the intensity Rel’ain was, Keith returned to staring out the window. Once again, his eyes met Lance’s. This time, Lance had time to shoot him a small smile. Unbeknownst to everyone else, Lance slipped his hand into Keith’s again and winked. Keith rolled his eyes but appreciated the gesture. Lance wasn’t finished, leaning towards Keith until his chest made contact with Keith’s shoulder. 

“See something you like?” Lance whispered, his teasing smile ghosting over the shell of Keith’s ear. Keith snorted despite the instinctive shiver it send down his body. 

“No, but you do,” Keith said. 

“That right?” asked Lance, his lips curling into a half smirk. 

The faux flirting was getting to Keith now, and a segue was desperately needed on his part. Heart pounding with the violence of a battering ram on the attack, he kept his voice down as he spoke. He was worried about crossing a line he wasn’t meant to cross. Their relationship—tentative friendship at best, rivalry at worst—might be too fresh to tempt boundaries. Prepared to pull back, Keith opened his mouth, only for the words to fall from his lips. 

“This place. You like it a lot, more than most of the other planets we’ve been to,” Keith said. It wasn’t a lie, but it was an admission that he noticed Lance’s predilection for certain places. And furthermore, that he watched Lance long enough to notice. 

Nevertheless, Lance did not seem to notice. He brought a hand up to the back of his neck, a sheepish laugh escaping him as he broke eye contact. If anything, Keith supposed _he_ was the one who should be reacting that way, not Lance. 

“Oh, yeah, it’s just…” Lance murmured, voice quiet not out of suggestion but from shyness. “It reminds me of home—of Cuba. It’s pretty silly, I know…” 

All of a sudden, the precipitate attachment made sense. Keith’s features fell into something much softer. Despite not having the kind of home-life to yield the level of homesickness to match Lance’s, Keith could sympathize with missing the people you love. After the Kerberos mission and losing Shiro, Keith felt a part of him ripped out of his life; he had lost the only family he had left at the time. 

“That’s not silly, Lance,” Keith said. It was all he could say. 

He wanted to reach out and reaffirm his statement, but remembered his hand was already enclosed in Lance’s. Without thinking, he gripped tighter, just enough to assert his point. Again, he was wading in deep, potentially dangerous waters, but if that meant drowning in the captivating blue that was Lance McClain’s eyes then he was fully prepared to dive in. 

_I can’t believe my mind has devolved into the thoughts of a love-struck, obsessive teenager._

He would have scolded himself for it, too, if Lance didn’t break out into the biggest and brightest smile Keith had seen on him all day. Keith could tell from the way his eyes lit up alone. 

_Ohhh boy… I take it back,_ Keith mused. 

“Thanks, Keith,” whispered Lance, his tone unbelievably fond. 

Keith’s heart, which had once pounded louder than an army of drums, had now come to a complete halt. Stuck in his throat, his heart reverted to expanding in and constricting his airway, diminishing his ability to breathe. He turned away, avoiding Lance’s overwhelming gaze and nodding. 

The rest of the ride was one in relative silence. The only sounds to break it were the Holt siblings pointing out epiphytes to one another and Shiro making genteel conversation with the guide. The atmosphere of it all was serene but uncertain, where the unknown was there but not concerning. Considering this was a break from an intergalactic war, the lack of concern was not unexpected. 

Their arrival at the castle inspired awe among the team. Gemstones were encrusted in the iron and steel that made up its walls, verdant vines cascaded down the towering structure and around open windows, and was surrounded with quaint housing and marketplaces. The dichotomy between the town and castle before them was impressive and just drew onlookers’ gazes back to the castle. 

Their guide led them to the king and queen, the interior resembling a Victorian throne room to an uncanny degree. A blue-skinned lady in ostentatious, velvet robes sat on the dais’ one of the two thrones—the queen, he guessed. At closer inspection, Keith noticed a pair of gills on either side of her neck. She was beside a lanky Nori native on the throne who appeared to have albinism. Keith knew Pidge would bend his ear about that last fact for hours, totally fascinated by albinism affecting life beyond Earth. 

“Welcome, treasured guests,” the king said. His voice was shockingly reserved for a ruler. “I am Kamrii, and this is my wife, Nileane.” 

“We thank you for your hospitality,” Allura said, bowing. The rest of them followed suit. 

King Kamrii smiled, revealing a double pair of disarming fangs. Both Shiro and Allura maintained their kind, diplomatic smiles, and Coran seemed completely undisturbed by the appearance of sharpened canines and incisors. Lance and Hunk faltered in sync and Pidge gawked openly. Keith wasn’t smiling to begin with, so he didn’t need to keep up some fabricated act. 

It was here that Keith lost concentration as the conversation went on. A thin layer of chill had coated the lining of his stomach, spreading outwards through his veins, and Keith realized how long his hands had been empty of Lance’s. He was cold. There was no way around it, and he chanced a glance at Lance. There was too much distance between them to reach out and grab his hand without attracting unwanted attention. 

_I can’t believe it’s come to this,_ Keith thought. _Casually working on my approach to holding hands with Lance the unbearable flirt. If Hunk and Pidge could read minds…_ It probably wouldn’t be long until they invented something to hear all of Keith’s sad, homosexual thoughts. 

If Keith was paying attention, he would have noticed her face twitch. It would have been her nose, if she had one, and Matt seemed to lose it at a private discernment. As he leaned down to Pidge’s level and whispered his comparison of the Queen Nileane to Voldemort, Shiro elbowed him for the second time that day. The Holts crumbled into silent laughter and eventually had to be excused by Shiro and taken aside for a talk. Keith didn’t envy them. 

“ _You,_ ” rumbled Nileane. 

Her abrupt interruption silenced Allura and the King. Keith met her gaze, staring into the reptilian brille of her eyes. His body jumped when she stared right back and leveled a leery gaze at him. Her ears, which had frills conjoined with the cartilage, fluttered rapidly. As her husband looked at her, her pupils dilated, and she gripped at the armrests of the throne. 

“ _Galra,_ ” she said, the king’s question unspoken but heard. “The elders gifted a Galra-blooded.” 

Keith was preparing himself for verbal retaliation or to simply excuse himself from the room. Shiro was still out with Pidge and Matt, so he couldn’t stick up for Keith like he tended to. In one fell swoop, Allura and Lance stepped forward, acting as living barriers between him and the seething queen. Most of the time, Keith’s Galra half genes went unseen. On occasion though, certain alien species could sense his heritage, which always threw diplomatic relationships awry. This seemed to be one of those occasions. 

“Our red paladin Keith is a valued member of our team, despite his Galran heritage,” said Allura. “We assure you he has no ulterior motive. He fights for us.” 

“He didn’t even know he was part Galra until recently,” Lance shot in. Keith could tell he was holding back. 

Tensions were high, and King Kamrii outstretched a hand over his wife’s chest, as if to keep her from lunging. Unlike his wife, he was unbothered by this recent development. Keith hoped it wasn’t a front and that he didn’t mess up this alliance because of something he couldn’t control. 

“ _Let him speak for himself,_ ” the queen growled. 

“Nileane, please,” Kamrii pleaded. 

For a couple seconds, she refused to break eye contact with Keith. He worked his jaw, hesitation creeping in and he fought to find his polite words. _Doubt those even exist,_ a goading side of him thought. Then she stood, stepping down from the dais and storming out with her chin held up. 

“I must apologize for her behavior,” the king said, bowing his head. “We lost a child in a Galra attack many years ago. She still has not come to terms with it.” 

“Oh, of course. We understand,” Allura said. “I do hope this does not ruin our treaty negotiations.” Though the monarchy didn’t have any legal power, their respect went a long way with the elders. 

_Back on track, like always,_ mused Keith. To Allura, the alliance was first priority no matter what. 

“Not at all,” Kamrii assured her. 

With that, the rest of their conversations went smoothly. Shiro returned with the Holts towards the end of their talks, and the atmosphere mellowed out. The only shift from before was that Lance’s hand had found its way back into his.

* * *

The ballroom was gorgeous. 

Norvia’s sun was beginning to settle, roughly an hour away from setting, Keith guessed. Sunlight filtered through the skylights in the vaulted, angled ceilings and the vibrantly tinted glass. The sprung floor was glossy and reflected the light passing through the room. Pleasant music swept through the room from the band near the open balcony, diverting from musical instruments to their angelic singing voices and back. Aliens from different races and planets were spread out across the ballroom, some dancing and others off to the side, drinking and chatting with others. 

The sight reminded him why Allura wanted the Nori as allies. In essence, the planet was the head of an organization of planets, so if they won Norvia, they won all of the Nori allies. All of their allies were there. 

Allura informed the team they were allowed to wander, as long as they stayed in the ballroom and interacted with future allies. Pidge, Hunk, and Matt immediately paired off, practically interrogating anyone who would give them the time of day. Allura, Shiro, and Coran went off on their own, conversing and taking hors d’oeuvres and drinks off salvers passed around by palace staff. 

Typically Keith would keep to himself in a corner of the room. Granted, at the moment that was hard to do with the way his hand was intertwined with Lance’s. Keith inwardly decided he didn’t mind. He half expected Lance to break off and flirt with the nearest beautiful girl, but Lance made no effort to pull away. In fact, Lance turned to face him, tugging him along as he walked backwards towards the tables of food and refreshments. Keith had to stress to himself that this was only because of his condition. 

“Are you kidding me? You’re already hungry?” Keith said, poking fun. 

“I gotta nourish these muscles,” Lance said and flexed his biceps. “Not that you’d know what’s that like.” 

They both knew Keith exercised in one day more than Lance did in one week, but—for once—he didn’t feel like arguing. It was a new feeling. It was certainly not something he felt around Lance before. 

“Bite me,” said Keith. 

He took a fizzing drink off one of the tables draped in sleek, white cloth. Hopefully it wasn’t alcoholic. Shiro would scold him for his lack of professionalism and Lance would tease him for getting drunk on the job. 

“Don’t tempt me,” Lance said, arching a suggestive brow. 

The blithe banter continued on, the two of them sectioned off near the band. They remained joined at the hand too, occasionally bumping shoulders and sending bolts of fire down Keith’s skin. The sensation made him want to jump in place and comforted him all at once. Laughter shared between them didn’t feel forced, either. 

Eventually, various kinds of aliens to come up and initiate conversation with them. Natives and foreign allies filtered in and out, smiling and engaging the paladins in curious talks. It didn’t take long for questions to stir about whether or not the red and blue paladins were dating. It took even less time for Keith to finish downing his first drink, reaching for another before Lance was a quarter of a way finished with his own. Some lines of questioning were covert, while others were more direct in their spirit of inquiry. Fervently shooting down each and every one of them got exhausting to Keith after a while, even though Lance was undeterred.

 _Figures social situations don’t tire him out with that big mouth of his,_ Keith thought. 

No matter how many times they dismissed the claim that they were dating, the questioning persisted. Deep down, Keith knew it was because of their connected hands, but he didn’t want to pull away. After spending a morning in Lance’s arms, this was the barest minimum he could manage without losing it. Being in such a public space didn’t help. He wanted to thank Lance for putting up with his ailment but couldn’t find an opening to between the constant questioning. 

“Are you courting one another?” a woman asked. Her split tongue slipped between her lips as she spoke. 

The slits of her eyes followed every one of Lance’s movements, her interest in him blatantly apparent. Lance seemed oblivious to anyone who displayed any _genuine_ interest in him. Keith knew that first-hand. Nyma? Check. Alien mermaids? Lance swooned. But this woman who was actually interested? Not even a blip on Lance’s radar.

_Ridiculous. How can someone who prides themselves on their flirt persona be so unbelievably dense?_

A wicked thought floated to the surface of Keith’s mind. Lance hadn’t opened his mouth yet to retort, so he still had a chance. At this point the sun had touched down on the horizon and Keith was so incredibly tired of socializing. So he snapped to action. 

“Yes,” Keith said. “We’re together.” 

Lance made a choking noise off to his side, lowering his drink as he gawped at Keith. The white lie messed with Lance bad it was almost amusing. A servant noticed the disturbance and came over, offering a linen napkin and taking away Lance’s drink. Keith put his drink down on the servant’s tray as well, figuring downing multiple drinks—regardless of the amount of ethanol or lack thereof—was probably not a good idea. Keith found himself unwinding in the process, as the lady wandered off to hit on someone else while Lance went off the deep end. He tried to stop Lance before they broke their longest consecutive streak of not fighting.

“At least no one is bothering us now,” Keith said before Lance spoke up. 

“Keith!” he grouched, high-pitched. “What happens if I see a cute alien chick, huh! You took away their only chance at being with the best paladin of Voltron.” 

“Shiro?” 

“No,” Lance retorted and narrowed his eyes. 

He crossed his arms over his chest. It was the first time Lance had pulled his hand away. Keith suppressed a shiver of cold. 

“ _Oh,_ you meant Pidge,” Keith nodded, maintaining his innocent tone. 

“Me!” said Lance. Keith dropped into a flat look. The melodic music the band was playing switched in time with his expression change. 

“Then I did them a favor,” he said. 

Lance broke out into a gasp. Keith would have guessed Lance wasn’t keen on hearing his barbs until he reached out to pull Keith onto the dance floor. The moment he reclaimed his grip on Keith, he shivered, both from the spark of fear and the flicker of heat that ran through him simultaneously. 

“What,” Keith said, a little flatter than he would have liked. He cleared his throat before trying again. “What are you doing?” 

“More like what are _we_ doing,” said Lance. 

“I’m not helping you pick up girls,” Keith said.

“We’re dancing, dumbass.” 

“What?” Keith repeated. “Why?” 

Lance raises his free hand to the back of his neck, dropping a hesitant gaze to the dance floor. _He almost looks… shy._ Despite this, their was an infective air of excitement surrounding them. Lance suddenly stole a glance up at him, though he kept his head down. Keith momentarily forgot all thoughts. He was so absorbed in the phenomena that he did not notice Matt waving him over from across the ballroom. 

“The song they’re playing…” Lance gestured meaningfully to the band. “It reminds me of a song my abuela used to sing to me when I was little. Back when I used to live in Cuba, back when she used to be alive, and I couldn’t help myself, I guess…” 

“We can dance,” Keith said, not thinking. 

He was the one tugging Lance along now. He didn’t want Lance to be sad. Sad Lance was even worse than Annoying Lance. Objectively, of course. The doleful lilt in his voice spurred Keith to trust his instincts. An urge embedded in his abdomen pulled him towards the center of the ballroom floor, Lance trailing behind, confused but accommodating. It wasn’t unlike how he was when Lance was tugging him along. The only difference was Keith had no idea what he was doing. 

Lance seemed to sense this, taking control of the situation and giving them direction. He twirled Keith close to him, dropping his hands to Keith’s waist with a grace that belied his gangly limbs. Keith despised that he found the motion attractive. Embers of warmth flickered underneath his skin and tinted pale with a light brushing of pink. Keith got with the program, mimicking the movements of the other slower dancers and raising his hands to rest of Lance’s shoulders. 

“So… back to what you were saying,” Lance said. The suggestion prompted an eyebrow raise from Keith, so Lance elaborated. 

“About me being amazing,” said Lance, continuing before Keith could interject. “I know I’m great and all, but honestly I would be pretty pissed at my girl Fate if I got stuck with you instead of someone like the princess.” 

Keith rolled his eyes. The ring of dancers seemed to part for them, making way for the paladin duo. Lance continued to move them with an acquired skill that Keith didn’t know he had. It was impressive, in a way. Keith wondered if he could help Lance incorporate that skill into his fighting abilities. As he begun to drift, Lance twirled him again, and Keith refocused. 

“Typical. But unlike you, I have this little thing called morals, so even if I was into girls the last thing I would do is take advantage of the situation,” Keith said. 

_…shit,_ Keith thought to himself. The Freudian slip left him infinitely glad he wasn’t looking at Lance right now, because the last thing he wanted was to see his reaction. 

“If you…” Lance trailed off. His grip loosened as he lost focus. “Wait, Keith.” Keith closed his eyes as he groaned internally. “Oh my god. Keith, look at me.” 

The weight of his words got to him. Keith sighed, begrudgingly doing so. He braced himself for the inevitable teasing, or for the possibility of disgust, but he didn’t expect the wide-eyed wonder Lance was throwing at him. It disarmed him more than the other options ever could. 

“You’re gay?” Lance whispered, as if it was an international secret to be protected at all costs. Keith steeled himself and gave the flattest, most nonchalant answer he could manage. 

“Clearly not in the slightest, considering my last comment,” he said. Lance ignored the sarcasm. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Lance asked. He regained his composure, carrying on with their dance. 

“Why _would_ I do that? Just to have Hunk go through another phase of calling me ‘Galra Keith,’ except this time around it’s ‘Gay Keith’? I’ll pass, thanks,” he paused at Lance’s incredulous look. 

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Keith said, unable to help how defensive he sounded. “Why does—why does it matter?” 

Lance went to shaking his head, clearly not intending to evoke such a two-fisted response. He was quick to backpedal. 

“No, it’s just… it’s nice to… to know I’m not alone,” said Lance. Keith would have laughed if it weren’t for how dour the blue paladin was acting. 

“You? Gay?” Keith actually chuckled as he said the two uncorrelated words. “You have flirted with literally every female we have interacted with so far and no—I repeat, absolutely no—guys.” 

“That’s because I’m bi, you toasted walnut! And for your information, I’m more particular when it comes to men.” Despite how nonplussed Keith was to hear this, he gave a hurried reply. 

“Lance McClain? Having standards?” Keith goaded. “I think that’s the best joke I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.” 

It was actually a relief to see how easy keeping up a conversation was after coming out so abruptly. If anything, he had expected Lance to be the worst about it. He never expected Lance to _relate_ , of all things. Of all the serendipity he had run into since his time as a paladin—which there was an unsurprising lack of—this, without a doubt, was the one Keith most appreciated. The duo moved easily across the ballroom dance floor. 

“Don’t act like you don’t have a type too, Kogane,” Lance shot back. 

There was no punch to his words, though. They had reverted to their new, pleasant kind of banter that didn’t involve purposefully provoking the other. In spite of that, a spark of mischief rose in his gut and he leaned forward. Lance stepped back to reestablish balance, but Keith kept moving forward. 

“Oh, I have a type all right,” Keith said, his voice low. He had immediately caught Lance’s attention. 

“He has a smile that can disarm an entire room, the tanned skin of a god, and eyes that can switch between melting your heart to piercing right through you… and his name?” Keith said. 

He let his hand trace down from where it rests on Lance’s shoulders to his chest, where he grabbed him roughly by the tie and pulled him forward. Lance stifled a small sound of surprise, but otherwise did not pull away as Keith whispered in his ear. He wore a smug smile when he said it. 

“Hunk.” 

Keith pulled back preemptively, ready to see Lance react, when the boy burst out laughing. It was such a startling noise that he drew attention from the aliens swaying around them. The blue paladin brought up his hand to cover his mouth, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he smothered the sound. He was slow to drop his hand. 

“Wow… okay, fine. You got me on that one, mullet,” Lance said, smiling. 

They maintained their slow dance, Lance’s arms girded around Keith’s waist and occasionally twirling on the polished tile. The pleasant ambience of the room was enchanting. Keith wanted to remain in the moment for however long Lance let him drag it out. But, of course, destiny had other ideas. 

Keith had finally noticed Matt’s presence on the outskirts of the dancers, his hands held high above his head in an attempt to be seen. With all the motion around them, Keith nearly missed it. When Matt caught his eye, he waved him over with heated spirit. Keith faltered, not wanting to pull away but knowing Matt was there to help. Keith sighed to himself. 

_I’m going to have to move sometime._

“You okay?” Lance said, closer than he was before. 

Concern furrowed his brows in a way Keith found incredibly charming. Not wanting to raise alarm, Keith took a different route of conversation. He wasn’t ready to tell Lance that Matt and Pidge were working together to help him. 

“Are you sure you want to spend this whole dance here with me?” Keith asked. Lance tilted his head, resembling a confused puppy as he stared at Keith openly. 

“Would that be a problem?” said Lance. 

“Just surprising is all…” Keith’s voice tapered off, his attention back on Matt. The boy was now waving his hands frantically, his exasperation evident in his eyes and the little open ‘o’ his mouth shaped. 

“Now _that_ is the intonation of a confident man.” 

“Hmm?” Keith hummed, turning to face Lance once again. 

His face dropped at seeing Lance’s expression. Rather than the wonted annoyance Lance typically expressed when all attention was not directed at him, a slanted, mushy smile was paired with a tilted gaze. It threw Keith off his guard. 

“You doing okay there, pal?” asked Lance. 

“I—“ Keith started. 

Matt was elbowing past dancers, murmuring apologies in the direction of disconcerted faces as he went up to the center of the dance floor. Lance followed Keith’s eyeline, finally getting the hint and turning to stare at Matt. Matt didn’t even spare him a first glance, keeping his gaze on Keith. 

“Keith-o!” Matt shouted, apparently unaware of his close proximity. “C’mon, I need your help with something.”

Reaching out for Keith, Matt clung onto his wrist, attempting to pull him away from Lance. Lance, stupefied, was too puzzled to interrupt the action. Keith stood in place, unmoving. 

“You really need him?” Lance asked, more at a loss than suspicious. “Right now?” 

“I may or may not have suggested that I’m close to the red paladin to impress this girl… I mean, it’s not that far off,” said Matt, giving Keith an indistinct look. “But this bevy of alien technicians overhead me and got excited. They promised me some of their tech in exchange to meet you. Now, let’s go. Let’s go! Pidge would slaughter me if she knew I lost out on this chance.” 

With his spiel done and over with, Matt returned to tugging on the sleeve of Keith’s suit. This time, Keith gave in. He let himself be tugged along and away from Lance. When there was some distance between them and Lance, Keith leaned in to talk to Matt. 

“You find someone who can help my… help me?” 

“Nah, I was telling the truth,” Matt said over his shoulder. They had reached the nearest open balcony and walked out onto it when Keith gave an impassive look. 

“Are you kidding me?” 

“Of course I am.” 

Keith couldn’t see it to confirm his suspicions, but he knew Matt was smiling. He was pressed up against the baluster of the balcony and pulled out a device Keith failed to recognize. It must have been a new invention. Matt pressed and tapped away at the darkened screen as Keith sighed and leaned against the outer wall—out of sight from anyone in the ballroom. 

“Where’s Pidge?” Keith wondered. 

“With the shaman,” Matt spoke absently, all of his focus on the device. Keith didn’t mind. He was used to Matt’s mannerisms by now, so relaxing around him became easy. 

“The shaman?” 

“Uh… yeah,” said Matt, grunting. “He isn’t an elder but he has the age and knowledge of one. Pidge is waiting there for us.” 

“Okay, so how do we plan on getting there? Last time I checked, the exit is that way,” Keith said, pointing a thumb behind him and to the bustling entrance of the ballroom. 

“Thought you weren’t a fan of boring exits,” Matt said. 

“We’d have to sneak by Shiro and Allura, so it can’t be too boring,” he shot back. Matt nodded, facing Keith. 

“Point taken,” said Matt as he smiled. “But I’m willing to bet you’ll like my way more.” 

Right on cue, an oddly shaped vehicle levitated up directly behind Matt. Neon orange was painted over a simple beige. On a second once-over, it looked to be a rudimentary hovership powered by silent motors and propellers. Hunk would lose his mind if he saw this. Keith wondered if Matt and Pidge created something like this in such a short time, or if they got it from somewhere else. Either way, it was impressive. It reminded him of his hoverbike back on Earth. 

“You want to drive?” Matt asked. 

The moment the suggestion went in one ear, Keith had already vaulted over the railing and onto the vehicle before it went out the other ear. Matt hopped up behind him, fast to reveal a makeshift seatbelt and lock himself in. Keith chuckled. 

“Hey, Shiro’s told me stories. I know what I’m up against,” Matt retorted. It was a statement that only spurred on his amusement more. 

“Mm, smart move. Boring, but smart,” Keith said. 

He didn’t give Matt the chance to respond. He shot off, the gears and pedals familiar to his muscle memory but strange to his eyes. Most parts of the hovership looked odd, but acted the same way as any ship he had gotten his hands on. He had to give Matt credit; this was definitely the best move. Not only would this be far faster than walking, it lessened the chance that Shiro would discover they were missing. 

Matt was pointing out directions, whether it was a sharp left or a warning to dodge a nearby passerby, as they made their way. Otherwise, Keith was lost to the road and the sharp, crisp wind whooshing past his face. A light chuckle grew in his gut. God, how he missed this feeling. 

“ _Stop here!_ ” Matt shouted, emphasizing his words with two large pats on Keith’s back. 

The two leapt off the hovership and Matt turned off the ignition. Keith had tried, but some of the various buttons and switches were too far from normal to have an identifiable purpose in his eyes. They had parked in one of the more forested areas inland, separated from most inhabitants by a large circle of trees. In the clearing stood what Keith could best describe as a faded carnival tent. The red and white stripes were replaced by a yellow base and irritable splatters of randomly chosen color, and ultimately gave off the impression of a Jackson Pollock canvas. Keith wondered how Matt and Pidge found this place. 

Matt stopped a foot or two away from the main entrance when Pidge burst out, giving her brother a quick hug before motioning the two to follow her. 

“You guys took so long,” Pidge muttered. 

She led them to another area separated from the open space of the tent. Partitions gave the impression of privacy. The three of them entered a much smaller, darker, secluded tent adjoined with the first when Matt turned to him. The dim lighting made his simple smile appear menacing. 

“Ready to get some answers?”

* * *

Lance needed a distraction. Keith going off alone with Matt left a bad taste in his mouth, regardless of the reason. The temptation to follow pushed against him, but he kept it at bay. He wasn’t going to make a fool of himself in front of Keith for the millionth time. 

He had moved off the dance floor in favor of circling Allura and Coran. He was a shameless eavesdropper in this case, curious as to what intel he could gather as the princess spoke to a three-eyed, Nori high priestess. Beside her was a shorter girl with curly, mauve-tinted hair that ran longer than the length of her body. It was a miracle she hadn’t decided to put up her hair considering where she was. The girl met his eyes. 

Ashamed at being caught, Lance turned a light pink. He managed to shoot a wink in her direction in a lame attempt at dispelling the tension. Spectacularly, the girl brought up a hand to her mouth to suppress a giggle. The sound was akin to tinkling bells. Despite how mellifluous it was to his ears, he was reminded of another sound instead. Another laugh, to be more specific. 

His mind took him back to his pillow fight with Keith, when Keith had finally joined in his laughter as he smacked him with soft, feather pillows. The feeling of Keith underneath him, the sound laughter bouncing off the walls, and the sight of the red color in Keith’s cheeks from overexertion were all burned in his mind. 

He _really_ needed a distraction. 

Lance supposed the girl in front of him would do nicely.

He made to curve around Allura and properly introduce himself to the lady when a substantial weight came down on his shoulder. Shiro was the first possible interruption that came to mind when Lance turned around. The gesture was characteristically Shiro. He wondered if Shiro could read his mind. Nevertheless, Lance came to face his warm-hearted best friend instead. 

“How am I the only one who just saw this. I seriously can’t believe no one else was paying attention…” Hunk was mumbling. 

It sounded more like he was speaking to himself than trying to get Lance’s attention—even though he already had Lance’s attention regardless. Hunk was one of the only people who Lance could never be mad at. He was too much of a sweetheart to get upset with.

“Lance, please tell me you saw it too,” Hunk said. 

“What’re you talking about?” asked Lance. 

Hunk was tugging him away. Coran and Allura were too involved in conversation to notice, and the girl that had caught Lance’s eye was no longer in his sights. 

“Matt and Keith!” said Hunk. 

Lance’s face fell. He groaned and halfheartedly tugged in the opposite direction. Hunk hardly seemed to notice this new, opposing force. 

“Yes, Hunk, I know they went to flirt with cute girls without me,” Lance said under his breath. 

He got some relief from Keith’s confession on the dance floor though. It made sense as to why Keith never returned alien girls’ affections. Lance had always thought Keith was incredibly picky or brooding. The truth wasn’t even on his radar. The fact was girls never posed a threat to Keith’s single status; Lance had gotten it all wrong. But, then again, it wasn’t the girls Lance was worried about right now. 

“No, _no,_ ” Hunk said with a violent head shake. “They ditched the party.” Lance’s narrowed gaze went wide. 

“What?” asked Lance.

“Well, okay, uhm, so I was walking with this Pi’noalsian prince to the food bar right?” started Hunk. Lance moved in place, growing impatient. 

“Uh huh.” 

“And we were debating the contingency of a united front in regards to developing a space shuttle that can travel at near the speed of light,” Hunk said. “That way we could transport mass products and possibly people at an incredible rate.”

“Yeah.” 

“And he said I completely disregarded the physical consequences of traveling at the speed of light,” Hunk stopped to chuckle to himself. “Since at that speed your mass becomes infinite and you slow down.” 

“Okay, sure.” 

“But he didn’t take into account irregularities we can study like the Castle of Lions, which can produce wormholes at will and allow us to travel at light speed. If we can just _understand_ the mechanics behind—“

“Hunk, man, I love you, but get to the point,” Lance said. Hunk gave an embarrassed smile.

“Ah. Basically when we passed one of the balconies I saw Matt and Keith on this ersatz hovercraft going off by themselves,” Hunk explained. “I doubt Shiro knew—for obvious reasons.” 

Once his words sunk in, Lance shot up straight where he stood. He wasn’t even fidgeting anymore. There was a pang of jealousy there Lance refused to acknowledge. 

_Why him?_ Lance wondered before he could help himself. _Why him when I’m the only one who can help him? Why didn’t Keith tell me before he left? Why didn’t he ask me to come?_

“Don’t overthink it,” Hunk said, voice surprising him despite how soft it was. 

“What?” Lance said. He crossed his arms. “I’m not.”

“Yeah. You totally are. I’d recognize that look anywhere. Heck, I wear it all the time,” said Hunk. Lance put some distance between him and his friend. 

“Whatever.” 

“…you know, you can always talk to me about it,” Hunk said. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Hunk gave him a look. Pity and exasperation mixed with an edge of sadness. It wasn’t a good look on him, and it was a look Lance hated directed at himself. He didn’t need this right now. Plastering on the most annoying look he could muster, Lance spoke up before Hunk could pester him further. 

“So, you wanna pick up all the girls before they get back?” Lance said already walking away. 

“I—I’m with Shay!” Hunk said, voice raised as he went after him. “You know this.” 

“Perfect,” Lance said with a mischievous smile. “Then you can be my wingman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this update seemed a bit slower paced? i had to chop this chapter into two parts since it was leaning more on the hefty side. 
> 
> feel free to leave a comment if you wanna talk/criticize/whatever. i’m here for it fam.  
> have a good rest of your day  
> <3


	6. the Mpemba Effect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we doing a fat oof today boys 
> 
> btw before we start, here’s a fun fact:  
> the title actually relates to an anomalous property of water. i felt it applies well to this chapter (particularly in regards to Keith’s impulsivity). then again, i’m stupid. so we’ll see. 50/50 chance here folks

The inside of the secondary, intramural tent had a comfier vibe than the first. The larger one encompassed a larger surface area, was nearly triple in height, and held a clinical emptiness to it. That is to say, there was a lot in the first tent, but everything was hyper-organized and unease was ingrained in the texture of the felt, nylon, and polyester walls. Meanwhile, the smaller tent Keith, Pidge, and Matt were in now could best be described as if someone condensed a stereotypical fantasy cottage and fit it in the small space around them. 

In the center of the room was a bonfire the size of a typical, sphere kitchen table. Curls of fresh smoke floated upwards and was, to Keith’s surprise and the Holts’ absolute delight, absorbed into a levitating robot. How it managed to keep itself off the ground with no discernible wings or jets was lost on Keith. 

“This wasn’t here when we first showed up!” Pidge interjected. Her bright gaze sparkled as she looked from her brother to another part of the room, across from them. 

Keith followed her gaze and jolted in his skin. A figure stood tall behind the billowing smoke. Somehow, the presence of the man had gone completely undetected by Keith. That never happened. A concoction of intrigue and disappointment in himself blossomed in his chest as the man met his gaze. The lack of melanin in his thinning hair was readily apparent, followed by the realization that the clouded-over look in his eyes was from his cataracts. He raised a carved cup made of a maroon material Keith couldn’t identify and proceeded to take a long sip. All the while, his eyes never left Keith’s. 

So this was the shaman. 

“Neither was he,” the man replied when done, nodding to Keith. 

His gravelly tone held an intimidating factor to it, but the way the man held himself and regarded the boy with kind eyes told Keith he had nothing to fear. He opened his mouth to introduce himself, maybe even apologize, when Matt stepped forward. 

“This was the boy we mentioned,” Matt said, as if that alone sufficed. 

Apparently, it did. A flash of recognition shone in the fog of his eyes. The old man gave wide berth to the fire and came up to Keith. Reaching out, his hand hovered over Keith’s chest and began to tremble. As if burned, the shaman jerked his hand back, staring. Brows furrowed, he stepped away and to a rack of bottles, ranging from full to dried empty. As he scoured, squinting at old labels, Matt spoke up. 

“So… was that a good sign or…” 

“Certainly not,” the shaman muttered, moving to another rack. This one was predominantly spices and herbs. 

“Off to a great start with these cryptic answers,” Keith said under his breath. Pidge had heard him and elbowed him in the side. She leaned in to whisper back. 

“He’s just trying to help,” she said. “As much as I hate this unscientific voodoo juju, Matt’s right—this guy is our only option.” 

Keith sighed. He turned away. The shaman was still rummaging through the miscellaneous. He had moved onto a chest off to the side of the room. 

_If this is my only option, I am so irreversibly screwed._

“Keith, was it?” the shaman asked. 

Keith was thrown off being addressed so suddenly, but nodded in the affirmative. He assumed either Matt or Pidge had told him. 

“I’m U’kao,” he said, beside the fire. A glass vial half full with colored sand was in his hand, tipping over into the fire and tinting the flames. “Now, speak your sö’alu’s name into the fire.” 

“My… what?” Keith said, bewildered. It sounded like a botched pronunciation of soul. 

“Your heart’s counterpart,” said U’kao. 

Warmth bloomed under Keith’s collar and the muscles in his throat wound uncomfortably tight. He didn’t ask for this. It was all a mistake—a prank orchestrated by the cruelest threads of the universe. There was no one he was meant to be with. He had come to grips with that years ago. 

“That’s the thing,” Pidge cut in, noticing Keith’s hung head. “We were going to mention this earlier but… Keith doesn’t have one.”

“What? Impossible,” the shaman said. “No, each cold of the heart is bonded with another’s. There is never an odd number. You cannot be alone.” 

“Except… he is,” said Matt. “The one he likes doesn’t have a heart cold. It’s just him and him alone.” 

U’kao seemed deeply perturbed by their comments. Debating with himself, it seemed, the other three waited for what the shaman would do next. He put down the now empty vial and regarded Keith with a heavy kind of sadness. 

“I believed this to be a myth… a false premonition of our end by the First Elders. But, who would have figured, a paladin of Voltron…” he said. “I had just assumed it was exaggerated. The thought alone…” 

“Well, I don’t disagree that the story might have been inflated as it was passed down to keep it alive,” Matt said, “but we still have to do something. Keith can’t function like this. I was told by a native girl—Ehamni—that you could help him.” 

The shaman was silent a long while. Another debate warred in his mind that the three humans were not privy to. Then, with a hefty sight, he looked at his visitors. 

“Okay,” he said. “I will help.” 

Pidge and Matt let out shouts of jubilation, while Keith remained still. He wanted to hold out for hope, but wasn’t sure how much longer he could manage like that. He needed a real solution. 

“First, I must know the other deviations from our regular heart cold. You said he is the only one, but do you know if his sö’alu is also being affected despite not having a heart cold?” asked U’kao. 

The three went quiet. Keith… honestly wasn’t sure. Was he really dragging Lance into this too? Did Lance even notice? Or was this another difference from the norm? Keith hoped so.

“Hmm. I suppose you’re unsure? In that case, I would find out,” the shaman said. 

“What symptoms should we be on the look out for?” Pidge asked. 

“In the case of one’s sö’alu, they will know how to comfort them even in their darkest moments. On pure instinct,” said U’kao. “This is how even the most fearful of us can be saved in love. It’s quite impressive, really.” 

“What about my cold spikes?” Keith said. It was high on his list of concerns right now. The last thing he wanted to hear was how ‘impressive’ the science behind the branch of heartcolds was. 

“I’m not familiar with the term,” said the shaman. 

“They’re, uh…” he slowed, realizing Matt and Pidge were staring. He hadn’t talked to anyone about them yet. “Sometimes I’ll get… really cold. It’s nothing like how I normally feel. It’s like I’m actually…” 

“Freezing?” Pidge offered helpfully, though her worry shined through more. 

“Oh my, that is concerning indeed,” the shaman said. “A new development as well. All I could advise you to do is stay by the one who keeps you warm.” 

Lance was never around when Keith’s cold spikes hit. Either that was a hint about the timing of it, or he was incredibly unlucky. Perhaps he should talk to Lance about it. Then again, the thought of Lance never leaving his side terrified him. He was embarrassed enough as it was. He could suffer a little cold… 

“When you reached out earlier—his heart, could you tell something was wrong?” Matt asked. The shaman nodded. 

“I will be the first to admit I did not detect the amount of strangeness you have told me up to now, but I did notice one thing,” he said. A pair of cataracts stared down Keith. “Your anger and frustrastion. It is at a level I have never seen and I have aided dozens of foreigners. These feelings will not keep you warm; you will freeze faster. Your heart must be open and your mind forgiving.”

This felt like a team meeting where Shiro spent the larger portion of it berating Keith on his lack of ‘people skills.’ He couldn’t just _be_ relaxed in a situation like this. Keeping a cool head only happened when he was in battle or piloting Red. Whereas when people were involved, it only added fuel to the flame. Frustration flared up, at which he shuddered. 

“Still, I am in disbelief that you are the first one-sided heart cold,” said the shaman. 

“I was wondering, what exactly _are_ heart colds?” asked Pidge. 

“To answer that, you must know its history,” U’kao began. “Since our planet is a huge center for immigrants and foreigners and different kinds of species and races—“ 

“So the America of space, except actually welcoming?” Matt shot in. 

“I… suppose?” U’kao said, confused, then continued. “We have been a home for many for ten millennia now. While the Galra destroyed homes, we offered refuge with open arms. With time, though, the elders developed the ability to imbue foreigners with the gift of the heart cold. I don’t know how they managed that, though. Some speculate it was a gift from a woman who visited so long ago…” 

“I’d hardly call it a gift,” Keith said. 

The vitriol of his voice did not sting U’kao, but the words themselves did. He was reminded of how offended the Nori guide was when Matt dared to ask about getting a ‘gift’ retracted. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“ Keith started. 

“No, I understand,” U’kao said with a weak smile. “It has brought you nothing but pain. For my people, though, it is the reason we rest assured we will find true love.” 

“You said the elders gained the ability to give foreigners heart colds?” Pidge said to get them back on track. “Did they work the same on foreigners?” 

“Yes,” the shaman said. “Though, many foreigners viewed it differently according to culture. We are a very open people so we feel no shame in our love. Perhaps its because we naturally get heart colds and are already accustomed to being open.” 

“Figures,” Pidge said. “You’re an open people. Humans are not. And Keith is even worse than a typical human when it comes to privacy.” 

Keith opened his mouth to argue, but couldn’t find a retort. She wasn’t wrong. Pidge looked at him in a playful challenge and he sighed. She was right. The interaction went unseen to the shaman. 

“With that aside, I should explain how my people normally end our heart colds,” said U’kao. It was a simple statement that grabbed the attention of the three of them in an instant. 

“Both counterparts confess their feelings, so you may try that,” he explained. 

The nonchalance to his explanation was not something Keith could understand. His feelings were hard for him to handle on his own, he couldn’t expect someone else to listen without judgement or full-blown ridicule. And this was Lance they were talking about. If he confessed his unrequited, not only would be be damning himself to an eternity to Lance’s teasing, he had no escape. They were both crucial to Voltron, after all. So that ‘option,’ as it turns out, was not an option. Sensing the tension, the shaman spoke up once again. 

“I suppose you could also talk to the elder who put this heartcold upon you,” he said. Their worried responses were instantaneous. 

“We can’t do that,” Matt said. “Offending the elders would risk the alliance.”

“I really can’t risk pissing off any of the higher ups,” said Keith. 

“I apologize, but I don’t see any other options,” the shaman admitted with resigned reluctance. “If these ‘cold spikes’ are really as intense as they sound, you may be in danger. I wouldn’t suggest taking the brunt of this alone. Especially with your temperament.” 

Keith was tempted to bite back but was thrusted into silence by a sudden chill. It wasn’t a cold spike, thank all that was holy. The cold had been creeping in on him ever since he had left Lance’s side. He had been so preoccupied with finding answers he hadn’t even noticed. Keith wrapped his arms around his torso—a fruitless attempt at warmth. They needed to get back soon. 

“Are you implying that this could… kill him?” Pidge said in a panic. 

“You can’t be serious,” said Matt. 

Keith shivered. This time, it was not from the chill encroaching in on him. His mind pressed him to move towards the fire but he knew it was useless. Same way he knew this whole endeavor was useless. The only thing on his mind now was getting back to Lance. 

“How long would he have without any contact with his sö’alu?” Matt asked, grasping the word as well as its attached accent with perfection. 

“In my experience, a couple weeks,” the shaman said. 

“With no contact whatsoever?” Pidge asked in astonishment. When U’kao replied with a simple nod, Pidge went off. 

“That isn’t a good sign, considering it’s been under a week and he’s already struggling to stay away from Lance for longer than a few hours,” Pidge noted. 

“I need… we should go,” Keith said. 

“Wait, now?” said Pidge, disappointment evident. “But I still have questions.” 

Matt hesitated. He considered Keith for a moment before speaking. Keith would have been appreciative if he could actually focus on what was going on around him. 

“We need to get Keith back, Pidge. You can come back and talk to U’kao later,” Matt said. “You could even give him that new communications device we’ve been developing. Test it out.” 

Whatever her response was, Keith didn’t hear it. He was zoning out. He felt faint and frozen in place at the same time, his vision swimming with imagined prickles of cold. He vaguely took in their leave and the fact that they were driving back on the same rickety vehicle Keith had piloted on their way there. He had never felt so out of it. He needed warmth. He needed…

Keith needed to get ahold of himself. This was the problem. This was _his_ problem. It didn’t matter that Lance had offered to help. The closer Lance got, the worse off Keith would be in the long run. He wouldn’t confess. He was going to find an alternate solution. With this in mind, Keith repositioned himself, realizing they had already arrived back at the ball. Pidge was tugging him along as Matt went on ahead to make sure they weren’t caught. 

Keith could do this.

* * *

An uneasiness had wriggled its way under Lance’s skin and was writhing, despite the distraction of not one but two beautiful alien women on either arm. Hunk—the traitor—had kindly put it as a miracle. Sure, he may have wagered the Paladin Card to gain their favor, but really, in the grand scheme of things, did that really matter? He didn’t place much credence to the question. In full defiance of these two girls, all his mind could center on was Keith’s absence. 

The sound of Matt’s voice draws his attention away from the emphatic story the Doreac girl was spewing. His desire to show off his ability to attract all the girls he could ever want to Keith was washed away the moment he laid eyes on Keith. He was back. The new, abrupt feeling appeared deep within Lance, tugging him away from the girls with a muted excuse, away from the need to brag and show off and tease Keith and instead to… _comfort him_. He didn’t get it. He reasoned he was going insane. 

He was closer to Keith now. He barely registered Pidge’s presence, instead looking between Matt and Keith for an explanation. While Keith was slow on the uptake, Matt spoke. 

“Sorry to steal your date away from you—“

“He’s not,” Lance said. 

Despite the surprising degree of conviction in his voice, Lance couldn’t help the painful flutter in his chest. He shoved it aside. Matt pretended not to notice the interruption. 

“—just had to borrow him for a moment. Needed someone to hold up this broken down hovership I wrangled for a steal. Pidge was too small.” 

“Hey!” Pidge shouted. 

Her indignance arose from the mention of her stature. She was fully aware of how short she was in comparison to the others, she just hated when they brought it up. Matt ignored her. Instead, he leaned in to Lance as he lowered voice. 

“And no need to play pretend. I saw the way you two were dancing earlier,” Matt said with a wink. Lance choked. 

As much as he enjoyed his memetical friendship with Matt, he’d prefer not to divulge this kind of silly crush. While they could talk on for hours about the aliens they found attractive, finding comfort in the fact that they could talk freely of their sexuality, he always kept Keith out of it. If Matt knew, he’d find ways to tease him for it while Keith was around. Hunk did that enough. Thankfully, though, Hunk actually grasped the concept of subtlety. 

There was no time to argue. Matt was stepping away, bringing Pidge with him. The two pushed through the crowd and towards Shiro and Allura. Lance could appreciate that the jab seemed to be nothing more than that—a meaningless jab. At least, to Matt it was. He didn’t know. Lance turned to Keith. 

“Are you cold?” 

Keith had his gaze trained to the space above Lance’s right shoulder. He shook his head. Usually Keith was hard to read, but his response seemed genuine enough. That is, until somehow, he felt Keith was lying. Keith wasn’t shivering or paler than usual but suddenly he could tell.  
“Are you sure?” Lance asked again. Keith met his gaze this time. 

“Yes, Lance,” Keith said, glaring. “I think I would know.” 

_Maybe he’s shy about PDA?_ Lance wondered. Regardless, he had made it clear to Keith that he was more than open to help. It was all he could do at this point. He wasn’t going to push it.

“Okay,” Lance said, throwing in a smile for good measure. “Do you want to help me tease Allura for being too shy to hit on this Nori noble girl she’s had her eye on since we got here?” 

Keith’s eyes lit up, grateful for the change of topic. He jumped at the chance so Lance led the way. Lance put his hand out as they walked, in case Keith wanted to take it for warmth. Keith didn’t.

* * *

Keith became immersed in disciplining himself over the next few days. The changed were subtle, though. This included but was not limited to adding more and more distance between him and Lance to spend more time researching with Matt and Pidge, sleeping by himself, commenting on how he feels like he’s getting better to the rest of the team at dinner, and convincing Lance he didn’t think he needed his help as much (much to Lance’s outward dismay). He assured them this was just a cold after all; he only had to wait for it to pass. Pidge especially disapproved of this development, but stopped pushing after Matt reminded her exasperating Keith would only freeze him faster. He was getting good at maintaining his routine too, right up until the ambush. 

Coran had ensured the safety of the vicinity around Norvia from Galra. This didn’t mean they were completely protected from other kinds of attacks though. A pirating fleet ambushed them in the night and everyone on board rushed to form Voltron. Keith guessed they didn’t know what they were up against. No one could possibly be stupid enough to go against Voltron with the shabby vehicles these pirates were piloting. Even so, Keith struggled. 

Forming Voltron was a pain in every sense of the word. His reaction time as well as his fine motor skills had suffered in a way he hadn’t noticed since he begun metaphorically curling in on himself. The added numbness factor to his hands was a big problem he had hoped to work through by throwing himself even more into his training. It did not work. 

Keeping the mental connection served to be an issue as well. He nearly severed it a few times too, though the other didn’t seem to take notice. They probably attributed to shock, as no one had anticipated a fight and had dropped their guards while they were here. 

The last two ships was where Keith reached his breaking point. Since there were only two left, Shiro disassembled Voltron and let the team handle the last two independently. Keith couldn’t find it in himself to be more grateful. He felt bad for Red at this point, as she was doing most of the work. To his stupefaction, waves of worry smoothed over him. It was unlike her to be so blatant with her concern. 

When the battle was done, Keith careened back to the hangar, stumbling out of Red. He had to escape to his room as soon as possible. During the societal commitment to celebrate a win and dole out advice or praise where it was due, Keith leaned on Pidge as a crutch. Apparently Keith had done so well the last few days that even her and Matt started to believe he was getting better. 

“Somethin’ the matter?” Pidge asked. Her hefty yet tired look gauged the severity of his state. He had to stop her in her tracks. 

“Just tired,” he said. She huffed a laugh. 

“Keith Kogane is tired? I thought these were prime training hours,” said Pidge. 

His sense of urgency was climbing. He needed to get to his room before he collapsed in front of everyone. Out of his peripherals he could see the occasional glance from Shiro and Lance. They couldn’t catch on; all of his work would have been for naught. 

“You’re one to talk. If anyone has a worse sleeping schedule than me, it’s you,” said Keith. 

“What was that?” Pidge hummed, teasing. “Does Shiro not exist anymore?” 

Keith didn’t respond. Couldn’t. He was already taking his leave. Stumbling down hallways and half forgetting where his room even was before coming upon it, either on unconscious memory or pure luck. Nevertheless, he was safe. He tumbled in the direction of his bed before falling at the foot of it. Giving in to the cold, he pressed his back against the side of the bed he could reach and brought his knees up to his chest. 

A sob registered at the back of his mind. It took another moment before he recognized it was his own. A barrage of wet droplets soaked the taut, black fabric underneath his armor—which he still hadn’t taken it off. Oh well. The concept of time was lost on him as he sat, a shivering mess confined to the prison of the cold. He was a shell of the former enduring warrior he was a mere week ago and he hated himself for it. To make this cold spike infinitely worse, all the battered down emotions were swelling up in sync with the freeze, adding another level of torture to it all. This had to be the worst one yet. 

“ _Lance,_ ” he cried, the sound smaller than a whisper. 

He wanted him so bad. It was paltry and stupid and childish and it appalled Keith. If Lance could hear him, he would be disgusted. He was supposed to be on the more mature end of the scale in regard to everyone else on the team (Shiro being a clear exception). Yet, here he was, consumed by his inability to manage space’s version of a cold. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to; his limbs were raw and numb with the cold. He remained in the same spot until he blissfully passed out from exhaustion and dehydration.

* * *

“The transmission should reach them in a matter of dobashes,” Allura said. 

Shiro’s posture told Allura he was more relaxed than he had been in days. In his defense, Allura felt the same. Keith had been more active recently, assuring everyone he was healing. Though the two of them had been wary at first, well aware of his tendency to shrug off his team’s concerns, it appeared he was right. Shiro did comment on his tired appearance, but attributed it to the late night battle they had just three vargas ago. 

Almost everyone had left the control deck by this time, returning to the comfort of their rooms to sleep the rest of the night out. Even Coran had left his post in favor of sleep. This left only the two of them behind. They had decided to meet and discuss Keith’s progress.  
“Good,” said Shiro. “You suppose this was what she meant by—“

The main holoscreen lit up with the faces of the elders. Centered in the middle of the group, though, was the one who gave Keith his affliction. Her perkiness would have added to her overall childish look, if it wasn’t for the devious smile she was wearing. The other elders stood in silence; this wasn’t their fight.

“Ambassadors of Voltron! It’s a pleasure,” she said. 

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Allura replied, keeping up with diplomatic gestures. 

“Let’s skip the rest of the pleasantries then, shall we?” she said. 

The young girl broke out into a smile that shone teeth so bright they nearly glowed. There was an underlying sparkle in her eyes that warned Shiro and Allura to tread carefully. She didn’t hide the fact that she had an ulterior motive. She held power over them, as Keith might get worse if she so desired. Allura was not familiar with the biology of history of the Nori people, so she couldn’t say for certain if they were out of the woods yet—even if Keith’s health was improving. 

“I agree,” Shiro said. “To be blunt, we contacted you because we believe Keith has completed his mission.” 

_His health must be what she was referring to,_ Allura reasoned to herself. _What else could there be?_

The girl’s smile dropped. Exasperation seeped into her young, wrinkle-less features and she muttered something to herself, maybe to the elders, in a language Allura took issue in deciphering. It wasn’t often she encountered a language that gave her so much trouble. 

“No. Not yet,” the girl said. 

The call was ended with such brusqueness Allura had half a mind to check the controls and see if the mice had climbed on them. They were nowhere in sight, so next she wondered if she had accidentally touched the controls. Her hands were folded just below her waist. 

“I… do not understand,” Allura admitted, staring at the panel in front of her. 

“Why the ambiguity?” Shiro wondered aloud. “You don’t think this is all for show, do you? She does intend on helping him recover, right?” 

“I would think so,” said Allura. “Gaining Voltron’s favor is an honor, as well is gaining our protection. I do not understand why we must run around in circles like this.” 

“And you would think Keith overcoming his cold would gain their approval,” Shiro said. 

A pause. A moment of internal conflict followed by an abrupt conclusion. A meeting of eyes. They couldn’t be right. This was serious. Between the much-needed alliance and Keith’s health, he would have told them if he was getting worse. 

“Unless there’s something else to this we aren’t aware of,” Allura said, considering the thought. 

“Even if that were the case, we can’t ask him.” 

“Why not?” 

“The stress of an interrogation, especially when he probably doesn’t know more than we do, might cause him to relapse,” said Shiro with crossed arms. He looked straight ahead, gaze stony. “That should be a last resort.”

As much as Allura wanted to press the topic, Shiro knew Keith more than she did. They had always been close in a way that reminded her of herself and Coran. Like family. So she would place her trust in him for now. Keith was getting better, after all.

* * *

Hours had passed since the debilitating cold spike had hit him. He remembered waking up the next day on the unforgiving floor, body aching and tongue itching for a drop of water. He changed out of his armor before he went looking for the others. Keith missed his morning training session with Shiro too. Coming up with a bogus excuse on the spot when he was cornered in the kitchen for a drink, he got Shiro off his back for a while. Something about helping Pidge out late last night rolled off his tongue and he knew he would owe that gremlin a huge favor for having his back. 

The team was in a strange limbo the past week. Allura refused to leave until they secured a Nori alliance, so everyone else was stuck training or dropping down on Norvia to explore. Hunk and Pidge had already gone down, bringing along Matt with them. Keith mulled over joining them but ultimately decided his body was too worn out. Even training seemed too daunting a venture for him. 

Caving into the lazy impulse to waste the day away, he began the trek back to his room. He took his cup of hot coca with him, though he was slightly peeved about forgetting to ask Coran where the cinnamon was. Keith sighed into his drink with double-purpose. He cooled off his drink while simultaneously releasing some of his pent up frustrations. The cup was the same one Lance had filled with cocoa and given him back when he first got his heart cold. To Keith’s disappointment, it wasn’t warm. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” 

Keith stumbled, his grip on the cup faltering as he spun around to face Lance. Yet again, someone had snuck up on him. He really hated how this cold was affecting him. 

Lance stood his ground, his arms crossed over his chest with a firmness that Keith recognized. He wanted to fight. Keith should have figured Lance would notice eventually. He hoped his distancing from him was the only thing Lance noticed. He wouldn’t ruin everything he’d worked towards the past few days. 

_It’s just a simple cold,_ Keith reminded himself. It was more of a plea than a matter of fact. _It’ll get worse before it gets better._

“You’re seriously going to ignore me when I’m right in front of you now?” Lance said, incredulous. Keith had forgotten he was supposed to respond. 

“I… wasn’t,” Keith said. A lame reply. Lance wasn’t impressed. 

“Then you wouldn’t mind telling me why you’ve been isolating yourself when you’re supposed to be getting better,” Lance said. Pings of indignation flared in Keith’s gut and he glared.

“I am getting better,” he said firmly. 

“Fine. We’ll come back to that later,” Lance said. Absently, he tapped arrhythmically on his thigh with two fingers. “Why are you pulling away from me? Did I do something?” 

“Why would you think that?” 

“Because you never tell me anything outright,” Lance shot back, voice rising. “I can’t tell the difference between you giving me the cold shoulder because I messed up or you being in a bad, ‘I want to be alone so I can be dark and brooding’ mood.” 

Keith’s grip around the cup tightened significantly. He was making this whole situation easier on Lance! Why off Earth was he so determined to confront him about this? Lance riling him up like this, intentional or not, sent a wave of chill through his veins. 

“Okay, first off, that second option never happens,” Keith said. He was getting angry; the ire noticeable in the way he spoke. “And maybe I just prefer to spend time by myself, instead of following other people around like the lost puppy you seem to think you are.” 

Lance flinched, his gaze darkening. _Too far._ Even Keith had enough common sense in him to tell he had crossed a line. This whole heart cold situation was putting him more and more on edge recently. He couldn’t blame his condition altogether though. With a shaky inhale of breath, Keith used a free hand to run it through his mess of a mullet. 

“Wait, Lance—I…” 

“Funny, I didn’t know time to yourself also included Pidge and Matt,” said Lance. Keith tried not to cringe at being caught. 

“That’s not… isn’t… you’ve got it wrong,” Keith said, tripping over his words. He had never been good at articulating himself. 

“Do I? Guess I should go tell Hunk that he didn’t see you sneak out of the ball with Matt then.” This was a new tone Keith hadn’t heard from Lance before. It was detached and angry. But it wasn’t an explosive anger; it was the kind of anger that could freeze hell over. And with Keith’s current state, it would probably freeze him over in the process. 

“Matt told you already!” Keith said. “He couldn’t ask Pidge because she was too small to help him with that hovership he bought.” 

“That right?” Lance hummed, mouth pressed into a thin line. “Then tell me. How did Hunk see you leave the ball on a _broken_ hovership?” 

Keith froze—for multiple reasons. A part of him wanted to deny it and argue against reason and fight Lance on this. He couldn’t reveal the real reasons he’d been hanging around the Holts so often. But he knew these emotions would only slow down and even reverse his recovery time. Keith dropped his gaze to his cup. His room was just a few feet behind him. If he ran, he could make it. Could he even run like this? 

“Look. I don’t care what you’re up to, Keith,” Lance said, exhaling a sigh. He stepped closer. The anger dissipated and was replaced by a resigned sort of exhaustion. “I just don’t understand why you’re tiptoeing around me and keeping secrets. I thought maybe we… because the last few days… ugh, never mind.” 

Emotions—there were too many swirling up all of a sudden. Lance was too close. He could feel the warmth flowing off him in calming waves. On trained instinct, Keith pulled back, nearly dropping his cocoa for what had to be the dozenth time. His breathing was ragged, ice lining his lungs and throat to constrict his breathing. His gut was a frozen stone of ice, sinking down to the floor. Keith braced himself for the oncoming spike, knowing if he didn’t get to his room soon he would lash out at Lance. 

Apparently, soon meant right after completing a single, coherent thought. What a conveniently timed surprise. 

“Why… _why_ can’t you just leave me alone?” Keith growled.

His hands were quivering. From anger, the cold spike, or a combination of the whirlpool of emotions assaulting him right now, he didn’t know. The precise opposite of the truth was all Keith could speak. He didn’t dare look at Lance. Then Lance was moving closer, slow but deliberate. 

“You’re shaking,” Lance said, ignoring Keith’s comment. Another alien, unreadable tone. “Keith, what the hell is going on? What aren’t you telling me?” 

The tantalizing closeness of Lance’s presence was far too much to bear. If he reached out, just barely, his fingers could skim over Lance’s shirt. He could picture the softness and warmth coming off of it already. If he just… reached out… Keith needed to go. _Now_. 

“I told you leave _me alone_!” said Keith. He was shouting now.  
Except Lance wasn’t listening. He said something but Keith couldn’t hear him. The sound of his ragged breathing overtook every other sound, including the rapid beating of his heart. Then Lance was reaching out. In a blur of panic, Keith swiped wildly. The very moment his hand made contact with something that wasn’t air he regretted it. He hit Lance. Pulling back in one violent move, his entire body quaked, and he dropped the cup he had been holding. The cup shattered and spilled across the floor along with the rest of the chilled cocoa. 

Sleek shards were crushed under Keith’s boots as he backed up. He couldn’t stop right now. He needed the solace of his room. Even as he noticed the bloody nose he had given Lance or the hurt shock overwhelming Lance’s features, he couldn’t stop backing up. He turned to press his palm against the door’s bioscanner in a rough motion. He gave Lance one final look; the other boy still hadn’t moved.

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” Keith whispered. 

Practically throwing himself into his own room, he locked the door and dropped to his knees. Clutching his chest with one hand, Keith used his other hand to help drag himself across the floor. Each movement was bracketed with a sharp jolt of pain and a stab of cold. If only he could reach his bed. He made it a third of the way before dropping to the floor entirely. 

Keith had reached his limit and pushed a hundred miles past it. The prolonged isolation from his only source of heat plus the huge cold spike the other day had really done it. With the last shred of his energy, Keith pushed himself to lie on his back and stared at the ceiling. The back of his mind told him someone was bashing the door, but that along with the overbearing shouting had dipped in volume. In fact, he couldn’t even feel the cold anymore. He felt nothing. It was nice. So Keith closed his eyes.

* * *

Everything had happened so fast. Lance didn’t notice the droplets of blood dripping from his nose and down his chin until the door to Keith’s room had shut. He brought his hand up to his nose, ginger in his prodding as he assessed the damage. His eyes were still glued to the spot where Keith had stood. Bewilderment coalesced in the pit of his stomach as an uncomfortably wound ball. 

His first reaction was to go after him—despite Keith’s adamant hatred of him and his help. The impulse was different; that strange feeling was back. A much more visceral feeling than he was used to urged him to chase after the paladin. He couldn’t tell where it had come from. Maybe it was entirely delusional. Maybe he should honor Keith’s wishes and leave him alone. 

_No, no. Something’s very wrong here,_ the strange gut feeling assured him. 

Lance was ready to shove down the thought when an upsetting thump was heard from Keith’s room. He was by the locked door in an instant. Slamming his fists against the barricade between them, he shouted Keith’s name until his voice went hoarse. 

Dread shook Lance to his core. He was stumbling backwards, blue eyes searching for an access point in his frenzied state. His jittery gaze landed on the bioscanner locking the door. A plan clicked in his mind. Racing next door to his own room, he grabbed his bayard and formed his blaster. Pulling the trigger the moment it was fully formed, Lance shot out the bioscanner. It wasn’t enough to open the door though—he had only shut down the lock mechanism. 

Forming one of his newer configurations, Lance brought out his Altean broadsword. He shoved it in between the crevice dividing the two connecting halves of the door. Leveraging his weight on one side, he strained his bayard to one side in hopes of cracking open the door. The first few seconds were excruciating, but after it opened slightly, the automatic feature kicked in and slid open the door with ease. Lance lost his balance, scrambling for purchase before getting back on his feet. 

He deactivated his bayard as he rushed headfirst into the room. There, lying on the floor, was Keith’s unconscious body. Lance’s bayard clattered to the floor. Lance kneeled down and pulled Keith in towards his chest. His shaky hands ran over Keith, one finally landing on the pulse point on his neck and the other on his chest. That’s when it hit him. Keith had a frozen heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *subtly adds major character death tag* IM KIDDING  
> i didn’t mean to end this so dramatically i just wrote wayyy too much as it is to add the resolution as well. oh well. 
> 
> there was a lot of switching of POVs, especially near the end. sorry about that.  
> next chapter will FINALLY have the good shit, i swear. this chapter was both longer and shorter than i wanted it to be, somehow. i really wanted to fit in the fluff this chapter, but i guess you’re stuck with a cliffhanger bc im an accidental asshole. oops
> 
> also, i feel like i should be mature for once and genuinely give thanks for those of you with enough patience to wait for these slow ass updates. so thank you, lol  
> as always, comments are lovely and very much appreciated :)  
> <3


	7. Zastrugi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the title applies because our favorite space boys have a rough and uneven path ahead of them and have to fight the cold in the process. 
> 
> and new tags? i have no idea what you’re talking about.  
> they’re not relevant this chapter but they will be. eventually…  
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Many things were cold. A nightmare-filled head stuck alone in a bedroom, a Christmas spent alone, or a tear-soaked pillow that was used to muffle screams and cries were the first to come to mind. Space was cold, too, on account of it being an endlessly expanding vacuum. Despite being a nearly perfect vacuum at that thanks to gravity, it would freeze and destroy without a second thought. _As if it thought._

Ironic as it was, it reminded Lance of a certain Red Paladin of fire. 

Cold to the core. Nearly perfect. Impulsivity linked to behaviors and elements ingrained into its existence. Something to be obsessed with. Something _Lance_ was obsessed with. 

Ever since Keith’s affliction, Lance had grown more accustomed to seeing other sides of the boy. Before it was so easy to feign ignorance and play the bitter rival. Now the proximity was getting to him. He realized his past prejudice was just that, and there was more to the boy past the chilling and sometimes intimidating exterior. That was made painfully clear when another kind of cold brought them closer together than before. 

Lance had come to realize out of every comparison his mind made in a split second of terrified rumination, nothing was as cold as the unconscious body in his arms. Lance hadn’t noticed before. It had never been this bad. _Had it?_ Lance wondered to himself in horror. Cradling the boy, Lance identified with his exasperation and contempt at Lance’s denial of the reverse ever taking place. 

Trembling hands slid up until they reached pallid cheeks. The pads of his thumbs ran over the delicate skin of Keith’s cheekbones, noticing the fresh tear stains. Lance was stunned at one tear that had caught on his face, having completely frozen before it could fall to the floor. He was unsure of what to do next as he brushed off the frozen tear with care. There was too much nerve-numbing terror and shock to think straight. If he left to contact the others, it would mean leaving Keith alone. If he took Keith along, he might take too long. Worst case scenario, he could drop Keith with his shaking and endanger his health more. 

Something stirred within him. It was the same feeling that made Lance cast his eyes down at Keith’s lips the morning he woke up before Keith, as well as the feeling that told him to break into Keith’s room. It was more than a surge of platonic protectiveness that came with territory of being a paladin. His instincts had amplified and Lance didn’t know when or why it happened. Unless it… 

_Oh._ Oh, _fuck._

Lance had to trust his hunch. Unable to suppress the strong connection, he let his hand drag down until his thumb stilled on Keith’s bottom lip. It was tinged blue. On instinct, Lance grazed his finger back on forth on his bottom lip in a gentle, continuous motion. When Keith’s body reacted by twitching, Lance had to swallow a scream—which escaped as a hushed squeal. 

_I was right!_ his mind hummed, his hope rising. _I was… right? Did his lips just gain some color or am I seriously losing it? Holy shit, if this works…_

He could hardly believe it. Keith had moved; Lance could save him. Lance’s entire body was shaking, emulating his hands in crude, jerky motions. Inhaling a deep and broken breath, he subdued his anxieties in favor of mentally preparing himself for what he had to do. Lance leaned down, stopping at the last moment, centimeters away from his mouth brushing up against Keith’s. He shut his eyes, tight—too tight, and tried to regain his calm once again. 

“Ai Dios, no dejes que lo arruine,” Lance breathed against Keith’s lips.

Lance knew he must follow through. There was no other option; this was all up to him now and he had to suck it up. But Lance choked. His head flew backwards as he looked up at the ceiling, panting at nothing. It was too much. Being in the mere close vicinity of Keith had him embarrassed and unable to think. Cursing under his regained breath, Lance looked back down at Keith. 

“Okay, okay…” muttered Lance. His free hand absent-mindedly caressed Keith’s hair, neck, then down to his shoulder and arm to eventually stop on Keith’s hip before realizing. His body had been attempting to help Lance accomplish his desire to comfort Keith unconsciously but he wouldn’t allow it. He wanted to maintain bare minimum contact; Keith was knocked out, after all. So Lance approached the situation with caution. He would _not_ violate Keith’s trust. 

“How about we try this,” Lance said to himself.

He leaned back down. With his free hand, Lance braced the back of Keith’s neck. This time, he stopped when his mouth hovered above Keith’s forehead before pressing a fleeting, chaste kiss against his cold skin. It could barely be called a kiss with how fast Lance flung back for the second time in under five minutes. Keith’s response came moments later. 

An inundation of blood flooded his face and Lance sucked in a breath. With due hesitance, Lance brought the hand still on Keith’s hip up to his neck, testing for a pulse. Lance’s heart momentarily frosted over, skipping a beat, when he found an existing—albeit weak—heartbeat. A fresh wave of adrenaline rushed Lance and he rushed back down to drop a gentle kiss atop the tip of Keith’s nose. The bright, crimson flush lessened there. It further hinted that this really was working. 

“Mierda,” said Lance. “How?” 

He went to work, pressing soft and modest kisses to Keith’s temples, cheeks, eyelids, glabella, jawline, and chin, rotating between the spots after a kiss or two. One hand holding up the back of Keith’s neck and the other pressed firmly against his chest, Lance broke into a quiet sob and smiled into Keith’s neck. A strong heart beat back against Lance’s flat palm. Its strength grew in a gradual progression in time with his kisses. 

This went on until Lance found confidence in his heartbeat and the slight flush dusting his cheeks. Pulling away, he readjusted his hold to pick Keith up and carry him to the pods. Granted, Keith was probably all right now, Lance was not going to take any chances. 

A shrill crunch echoed from beneath Lance’s shoes. He belatedly realized he had stepped on splintered fragments of Keith’s cup and the remnants of his cocoa. He would have to come back and clean this up before anyone else saw. For now, though, his priority was the blessedly breathing boy in his arms. The joy and shock overtook any other form of rational thought. All he focused on was walking into the empty pod room and propping Keith up into the second nearest pod, passing the first one with a tool box in front of its jammed door. 

“What’s wrong with Keith?” 

Lance turned away from the tinted glass to face Hunk and Pidge. Thankfully he had already let go of Keith and didn’t have to worry about freaking out and dropping him. From how close Pidge and Hunk were to the doorway and how the doors just slid closed, Lance guessed they just arrived. Hunk held a welding tool and band cutters. Pidge had lifted her head from her open laptop in response to Hunk’s question, her gaze piercing in a silent question. 

“N-Nothing!” Lance said, the lie being incredibly convincing. An idea struck, leading him to believe there was a comforting prospect to his friends’ arrival.

“He actually… is getting better, but I convinced him to get scanned by a pod,” said Lance. “Just to make sure.” 

“That right?” Pidge said, cynical. “Lemme see.” 

Making her way up the steps and plugging her laptop into the pod using a long red cable that resembled a refitted HDMI cable. This way, she could easily translate the pod’s readings as well as save the data. Various tapping and clicking went off in the background as Hunk approached him, wearing a reassuring smile. 

“I think he’s been more active lately,” Hunk told him. “When I get up to bake early with the mice he’s always training—even earlier than he normally is. I think that’s a good sign.” 

So Lance hadn’t been the only one to overlook the signs. Keith really had done a fine job hiding the decline in his condition. It would have impressed Lance if it didn’t piss him off beyond belief. _And he calls me the idiot when I pull off a risky flight move, the hypocrite._

“What happened to your face?” asked Hunk. 

Hunk reached out to touch his face. Lance winced when his index made contact with the bridge of his nose. He brought his own hand up, touching partially dry blood. He inspected the blood on his fingers; the pain had gone unnoticed until Hunk had mentioned it. His mind had been completely consumed by Keith’s wellbeing. 

“Are you sure you don’t need a pod yourself?” Hunk suggested. It was said with the cadence of a joke, but there was underlying concern there that Lance took to heart. 

“Nah,” Lance waved him off, “Keith gave it to me before I could get him over here.” Hunk gave a short chuckle. 

“Sounds like him, and if you’re sure…” said Hunk. Lance nodded to put his best friend’s mind at rest. Hunk seemed satisfied. He had gotten into worse scraps before with Keith, after all. 

“You can handle that, right, Pidge?” Hunk said. He gestured at the malfunctioning pod with a thumb. “I want to work on this in the meantime, then I can leave you to it so you can have your peace and quiet.” 

She gave a slight nod, which told Hunk all he needed to know. He went to work, crouching beside the pod and bringing down his full face welding helmet. 

“Huh,” Pidge said. Her tone was indiscernible. 

Lance walked over, gaze passing between Keith’s upright form and Pidge. She was staring directly at him. The look stilled Lance, but not his jitters, his fingers playing with a stray thread from his jacket. 

“What did you do, Lance?” 

“I didn’t do anything!” Lance said back at her, raising his hands up in surrender. “Why? Is he okay?” 

“He… yeah. Somehow,” Pidge spoke as if she didn’t quite believe it herself. “His condition improved. It’s… incredible.” 

Strong adjectives with a _positive_ connotation were not used by Pidge unless she was truly astonished by a piece of tech or a new space contingency unknown to the rest of Earth. Lance knew he had really helped Keith. An ocean’s weight of worry and panic seeped out of him, leaving him drained and exhausted. With the adrenaline, all he wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep for twenty-four hours. Then he remembered the spilled cocoa and the blood on his face and knew better. 

_And the fact that he had kissed Keith._ Multiple times. _Fuck,_ he cursed in thought, the shaking starting up all over again. It didn’t matter that it had to be done. Lance felt horrible for it. He not mentally sane enough to figure out how he would explain it all to Keith. 

“Cool. Well, since you guys are here, there’s no reason for me to stick around,” said Lance. 

When no one opposed, he stuck his hands in his pockets and set off. Hunk saw him off with a distracted wave while Pidge watched the lanky teen leave the room. Her glasses glinted in the harsh, artificial light.

* * *

Keith was cold. It was unusual; there was a shift to the typical freeze. However, there was a familiar attachment to it that he only got when… _I’m in a pod. And if I’m conscious enough to realize that—_ He was too late to brace himself, as always seemed to be the case, and fell forward out of the pod. 

Afore faceplanting into the unforgiving floor—which he had done before and broke his nose, resulting in lots of laughter from Lance and Pidge as well as another trip in the same pod—arms reached out and caught him. Keith looked up to see Matt, smirking. His sister was off to the side, sitting on the steps as she typed something up on her laptop. 

“Pidge told me what happened,” said Matt. 

Keith momentarily blanked. What _had_ happened? He recalled walking to his room, arguing with Lance, the cold spike, then passing out. The dormant panic and fear came back to haunt him and he jolted upright, his back smacking against the reinforced glass of the pod. He brought his hand up to his chest in a disconcerted gesture. 

“Did I… did I _die_? I was _so_ cold, there’s no way I survived that. There’s no way,” Keith babbled, wide eyes flying around the room to search for any inconsistencies. “Where am I? Am I really in the Castle?” 

Two self-possessed arms came down on either side of his shoulders. Matt’s. No doubt it was a trait he had picked up from being around Shiro for so long. Matt furrowed his brow and gave Keith a long, deductive look. Keith closed his eyes and honed in his senses of the feeling of Matt’s hands on him. Warmth was absent. Keith’s eyes shot open when he took into account his own body’s state. 

The chilly atmosphere affixed to the pod had not followed him out. He was not ice-bound and was in full control of his limbs. The cold had not completely left him though; the raw algid essence secured to his heart pounded and swayed—a promise of its ulterior return. Keith brought his remaining hand to rest above his other.

“Holy shit,” said Keith. 

“You calm down yet?” said Matt with a quick pat to Keith’s shoulders. He probably aimed it to be a comfort, but Keith shrugged away the contact. 

“Pidge, what happened?” Keith asked. She craned her head and looked up. “What did you tell Matt?” 

She exhaled an annoyed huff as she set aside her computer. The girl took her time analyzing him, gauging her possible answers and how much she should reveal. 

“I don’t know much,” Pidge admitted. “Lance brought you to a pod after your fight—didn’t you agree or did he make up that part? I wouldn’t be surprised.” 

“Also what was all that about you saying you were ‘so cold’?” Matt added. 

It was Keith’s turn to deliberate on how much information he should reveal. He trusted Pidge and Matt, and they already knew the situation, and telling them might help figure out more about his heart cold. Like U’kao explained, all of this was presumably going to be new, as a lot of information might not apply to a one-sided heart cold. Pidge could document it and compare it if they visited the shaman again. 

“I collapsed after our fight,” said Keith, voice hushed. The Holt siblings listened in intently. “It was the worst cold spike I’ve gotten yet, I genuinely thought I was going to die.”

“So where does Lance come in?” Pidge asked. 

Her computer situated back on her lap. She was taking notes. Matt, meanwhile, was grinning all over again. It was the signature impish Holt smirk. A groan crawled its way up Keith’s throat as a precursor to the jab he knew was coming. 

“The only place Lance is coming in is—“ said Matt. 

“Matt!” Keith shrieked, horrified. 

“I have a girlfriend, so I’ll have to pass. I was referring to you, by the way,” Matt said, continuing without a flicker of embarrassment. “I bet you twenty GAC they banged.” 

All the embarrassment Matt should be feeling was being transferred to Keith and doubling the flush in his cheeks. He dropped his head in his hands, shaking it in disbelief.

“Keith, what happened next?” said Pidge. 

“ _Did_ you bang?” said Matt. 

“I don’t know,” Keith mumbled into his palms. 

“Okay,” said Pidge, understanding. “What do you think happened next, then?” 

“But did _you bang_ though?” Matt whispered. Keith raised his head to glare at him. He was going to knee Matt between his legs if the boy kept it up. 

“I think I passed out from it all. It was overwhelming,” Keith said as he shook his head. 

“They definitely banged,” said Matt. 

“The only thing that’s going to be banged is your head into the nearest wall,” Keith growled, his cheeks bright red. Matt let out a low, amused chuckle and stepped back. 

“Oooh, sassy Keith,” Pidge snickered.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll stop,” Matt said with a genuine smile. “But seriously, you don’t have any memories after passing out?” 

“Generally people who are passed out aren’t able to form new memories, let’s say, hmm… one hundred percent of the time,” said Keith. 

“Fair enough,” Matt said as he shrugged. “Guess that means you’ll just have to ask Lance yourself and tell us how he brought you back from the brink.” 

“You guys just want to know for the drama,” Keith huffed. 

“Of course not!” Matt gasped as Pidge wheezed. “It’s for the sake of science, obviously.” 

“Uh huh. Sure thing,” said Keith. 

“Wait, Keith,” Pidge stopped him after regaining her breath. “One last question. For real now.” 

Keith sighed and faced her. Her expression fell flat and though she gave a convincing impression of solemnity, his gut warned him otherwise. Since her laptop was still out and her fingers hovered over the QWERTY keyboard in anticipation, Keith paid no heed to his instinct. She had a serious question. 

“Did you and Lance bang?” 

Keith screamed on his way out of the room. Ears plugged and head held down, he made his way out as fast as he could, ignoring the Holt siblings to the best of his ability. 

The rest of the day was spent on the hunt for Lance. Strangely enough, their situation seemed to have been reversed ever since Keith awoke. Each time their eyes met, the heavy glint of guilt was the first thing Keith saw. Every interaction on Keith’s part when he _did_ find Lance ended with Lance excusing himself in a rush or avoiding him completely. It was disheartening and confusing, but Keith pushed on. He needed answers. 

It got to the point that Pidge and Matt had to intervene, keeping a lookout for Lance and dropping subtle hints that he should talk to Keith. It didn’t work. At dinner, Lance switched spots with Hunk to avoid sitting next to Keith. The lengths Lance were going to avoid him were absurd. Nothing changed as the team disassembled for the night to rest. Keith accosted him for the final time that day as Lance reached his room. When Keith asked about what happened, he was shut down. What a surprise. To top it all off, Lance had shut the door in Keith’s face. 

When Keith went a door over, he faced the mess of his room. The door was stuck, half-opened half-closed, as if pried open. The bioscanner was fried, wires tumbling precariously out of the junction box imbedded in the wall. Running a hand through his hair before tying it up, Keith went to train. He was not that tired anyway. 

The night passed unremarkably. He took down a couple gladiators, relishing the newfound control he had over his body. It reminded him of the brief period the first day he was struck with lightning before the heart cold got worse. Aware it would not last, Keith halted his workout for a quick nap, shower, and cold snack. 

At around six o’clock in the morning, Keith leaned against the counter in the kitchen. Lance tended to grab a bite to eat before breakfast in the following hour. As expected, wide set steps paced into the kitchen. Keith recognized the walking pattern before he saw the lanky frame of the blue paladin. Keith watched as the grogginess vanished and blue eyes were blown wide. Before he could retaliate, Keith clenched a fist around an exposed, tan bicep and slammed Lance against the refrigerator. Soothing embers of warmth, reminiscent of a heated blanket, wrapped around Keith’s core. As much as he wanted to dwell in the feeling, there was more pressing matters at hand. In his hand, to be exact.

“Enough,” Keith murmured, crowding himself against Lance. Part of his reasoning was to prevent Lance from escaping but another part of him that Keith wanted to disregard wanted to get as much heat as he could. He pressed his other hand on Lance’s chest to keep him in place. 

“Wh- _what,_ mullet?” said Lance. 

Keith glossed over his attempt to rile him up. The nickname Lance was so fond of did nothing to hide his breath hitching. Keith’s hand rested on his chest confirmed this, his heart pounding hard enough for Keith to recognize the beat with ease. 

“Tell me what happened after my cold spike,” Keith said. 

“What’s a cold spike?” asked Lance, sapphire irises clouding over with real confusion. He forgot he hadn’t told Lance; of course he didn’t know the term. 

“It happens when… I get a rush of cold and I can’t do anything,” said Keith. He averted his gaze momentarily, guilt fluttering in his ribcage at keeping something so important from Lance. 

“Jesus, that wasn’t the first time that’s happened?” Lance said in horror. Keith shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

“The same reason you haven’t told me what happened after my latest cold spike, I’m guessing,” said Keith. The taller boy’s gaze darkened to a frightening degree. 

“The same reason, huh?” Lance said lowly. “Last time I checked, I don’t emotionally shut down anytime someone gets close to me, physically or otherwise. And I don’t keep everything to myself until I explode and risk hurting the people I care about.” 

_Really?_ thought Keith. _Okay, Lance. Two can play at that game._

“At least I don’t use humor to mask my insecurities and my issues then run when I’m forced to face them,” Keith said, more cold than stern and commanding. 

“You _don’t_ run from your issues?” Lance laughed. It was a tight, bitter sound that made Keith want to recoil. “Keep telling yourself that, Kogane. Maybe one day it’ll be true.” 

“Why can’t you just _tell me_ how you brought me back?” yelled Keith. His final shred of patience had snapped. Lance rose his voice to match, overpowering his tone in aggression. 

“I _don’t want_ to _talk_ about it, okay!” said Lance, shoving Keith away. 

Keith stumbled before catching himself on the counter behind him, his lower back hitting the corner before he could do so. Lance had reverted to his guilt-ridden look, eyes looking everywhere but Keith’s and jaw moving side to side. This confrontation had gone right to Halifax. In spite of every instinct and thought in Keith, he relented. He didn’t understand how it could have been that traumatic, considering _he_ was the one who almost died. But he agreed and gave up pushing Lance. 

“Okay,” said Keith. 

“…Seriously?” said Lance. 

“Yes, I won’t ask anymore, but on one condition,” Keith said. “We go back to normal. You stop avoiding me like I’m the plague and I’ll stop bothering you about it. Deal?” 

“Yeah, deal.” 

“Thank god,” Keith said before catching Lance’s sudden smile. “ _Only_ because I’m seriously going to freeze without you.” 

“Awww. Are you saying that I warm your heart, hotshot?” 

“Okay. I’m done.” 

Brilliant laughter bubbled out of Lance as he reached out to tug Keith back, pulling him into his chest. Keith’s breath caught in his throat dangerously but Lance didn’t notice. It was thankfully overshadowed by his boyish laughter. 

“Stay,” Lance said, the word holding an intimate and unintentional softness. If Keith thought he couldn’t breathe before, he had permanent asthma now. “I’m sure you’re cold and I still owe you a hot cocoa.” 

“I take it you’re going to fix my door too, then?” Keith said. He was struggling to keep his voice even. 

“Pft, you think I could manage something like that?” said Lance with a chuckle. “That’s probably the closest thing to a compliment you’ve ever given me.”

“That’s not true.” 

Ignoring his comment, Lance released his hold. He was moving towards one of the cupboards, reaching for a packet of cinnamon. At least, it tasted like cinnamon. The corner of Keith’s lips quirked up when he thought about the first time Lance made him this. He had not only added it in, but got lucky enough to find some bizarrely accurate form of space cinnamon to add in. It was sweet. 

“I’ll tell Hunk and Pidge about it later, that way they can fix it,” said Lance. “I already told them we had a fight when I tried to get you to the pods after… you came back. So they shouldn’t question it.” 

“Yeah,” Keith said. “They shouldn’t question one of us absolutely wrecking one of the technologically advanced Altean doors during a fistfight.” 

Lance halted and turned his head. Awe and surprise stared Keith down, prompting him to reply with a ruffled ‘what.’ 

“How come I haven’t heard you tell a joke like that before?” Lance asked, returning to his task of making cocoa. 

Keith hummed, noncommittal. He wasn’t sure himself. Perhaps Lance was having more of an effect on him than he realized. He jumped up on the counter and sat with his legs dangling over the edge. He watched Lance work, his slim, ept fingers slide over a cup, hovering between two options before landing on the one with polka dots. 

“How’s your nose?” Keith asked. “I’m sorry about that, by the way.”

“Sore, but fine,” said Lance. “And it’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier too… about you using humor to hide your problems,” said Keith. Lance poured milk in a small pot to heat it up, careful to put it on low heat as to not curdle the dairy. 

“Don’t be. You were right,” Lance said with a hefty sigh. “I’m sorry for saying you hide your problems with your cool, broody exterior.” 

The last sentence was teasing. To make it even clearer, Lance bumped his shoulder into Keith’s, a playful move, as he reached for the cocoa powder. The stilted atmosphere had all but dissipated now and Keith let himself relax. Judgement had been set aside in this kind of peaceful air and Keith no longer had to worry about putting his foot in his mouth. 

“Can I stay in your room until my door gets fixed?” Keith asked. Brown hands hesitated over their slow mixing and Keith knew he had made a mistake. 

_Nope. Never mind. I was wrong—so, so wrong. The biggest, fattest wrong award goes to me and my stupid, stupid brain. And I had_ just _gotten back on his good side. Swell job, Keith._

“Nah,” Lance said and his heart fell. “You’re staying with me until you recover completely from your spacethermia.” 

“Your name for it isn’t gonna stick,” said Keith. He was smiling despite himself. 

“You’re too late. It already has, mullet,” Lance said. 

The blue paladin finished pouring the heated milk into a cup and added a dollop of whipped cream on top. Then, he rubbed the cup before handing it to Keith. Keith realized a little too late that there was really no point for Lance to heat up the milk on the stove, but didn’t mention it. It helped the powder dissolve faster anyway. Keith rose the cup to his mouth. 

“Wait!” cried Lance. 

Keith froze as Lance’s hands came up over his own to halt his movement. Once Keith had stopped, he let go and reached over for a pinch of cinnamon. With an apologetic smile, he sprinkled it over the top of the cocoa. Keith rolled his eyes. He was beginning to love hot cocoa.

* * *

The following week was relatively laid-back. While Allura and the team set off from Norvia to go a day out and scan the areas around nearby planets, everyone was able to relax. Even Keith and Shiro took a break from training to unwind. The first couple of days were nice, where Keith spent the majority of his time sleeping in for the first time in years and waking up cuddling Lance. The warmth and comfort of it all did not last nonetheless. 

Another indescribable shift occurred through the night, leisure and consuming. Said shift went unnoticed until he accepted a lazy hug from a half-awake Lance. Where that level of contact would set his nerves aflame alone, there was only fizzles of heat this time around. Keith pulled himself closer, hiding his head in the crook of Lance’s shoulder, breathing hard as he realized he wasn’t imagining it. The effect had lessened. Holding hands and hugs lost nearly all its power of warmth. It was terrifying and unexplainable and Keith did not know how to tell Lance. He forced himself to speak up about it after one of their team lunches, which sparked Lance’s worry for the first time since his last cold spike. 

Keith eventually got so bad that Lance argued with him over telling the team, but Keith refused. They were a day’s time away from Norvia on a scouting mission, so he coaxed Lance to wait for their return. Once again, the universe disregarded his wishes with a brazen obviousness in its timing. 

See, Allura had demanded the team spar together twice that week to stay in shape. Their second training session it happened. A cold spike, not as bad as the ones before it but enough to make his knees buckle and force him down to the padded floor. Lance, being his training partner, was already by his side. The team was not far behind. As Keith crumpled into Lance’s arms and shook uncontrollably, Lance rushed to explain the situation as well as a hurried explanation of his cold spikes to everyone else. But Keith could not hear what Lance was saying. 

Smack-dab in the middle of the fury of cold swarming him, the lack of warmth was fully realized. The body he was hunched up against gave him no relief and had Keith reaching a new high in terms of panic during a cold spike. Despite the brevity of this cold spike compared to ones before it, the new seed of fear had already been planted. 

Keith ended up being relocated to the Castle’s medical bay, bedridden and exhausted. The artificial lights dimmed as hours passed. When he regained his ability to speak he explained the heat loss. Nothing Lance did changed it; he remained cold. Pidge theorized that leading up to the cold spike, it gets harder for Keith to feel warmth. Furthermore, there was a temporary period afterwards where Keith would be cold regardless of physical contact from his sö’alu. He hoped she was right and that the heat would return, otherwise he had run out of options. 

Later that night once Keith was all by his lonesome, Lance sought him out to pay him a visit. Keith moved to sit up in his bed but Lance motioned him to stay put. Bringing over a rolling stool, he sat at Keith’s bedside. 

“We haven’t finished the scouting mission, but Coran keeps assuring me we’re close,” Lance started, throwing himself into conversation. “Should be another hour or two and then we’ll head back to Norvia. The trip back should take about a day.” 

Keith relinquished himself to listening. The cold spread more rapidly than it had before, rising concerns from the rest of the team about the conceivable timeframe Keith had before the situation reached a critical point. It rendered him too weary for words. Keith was grateful Lance was more than willing to speak for the both of them, filling the too quiet space of the medical bay. His rants were regarded with a delicate fondness on Keith’s part. 

“Hey. Keith,” said Lance, giving his blanketed thigh a gentle prod. Keith refocused his hazy gaze on the boy with a slight smile. 

“Mhm?” Keith droned in question. 

“I didn’t just come to update you on our travel plans,” Lance confessed. His mouth curved to form a sheepish smile. “I wanted to tell you how I brought you back, if that’s okay.” 

His senses sharpened in response, allowing Keith the chance to nod eagerly. Lance tittered but got the message. Leaning forward, Lance placed his elbows on Keith’s bed and folded his hands to look up at Keith. There was too much emotion in those ocean blue eyes and not enough energy in Keith’s frail body to read in to it. He leaned back and awaited Lance’s summation. 

“I kissed you,” said Lance, so abrupt Keith stopped breathing. At seeing the red paladin’s adverse response, he immediately went to remedy the situation. 

“I swear I didn’t kiss you on the mouth, just like on the forehead and cheek and stuff. I would never do that without someone’s consent,” said Lance in rapid-fire. Keith found the last sentiment incredibly charming and sweet. He didn’t know if he was upset or relieved Lance didn’t notice. 

“I’m so sorry. I seriously don’t know what came over me, I just… knew it would work?” Lance continued. He had begun to slow down, watching his words in a way that was unlike him. “This may sound crazy but I think your weird spacethermia affects me too because… because otherwise I don’t know how else to explain what happened.” 

Keith just smiled, tired beyond belief. It was evident how much of a toll his condition was on him. He brought up a palm to silence Lance so he could speak. He gathered up the energy he could and redirected it to his voice. 

“Yeah,” said Keith. “That makes sense.” 

“It… it does?” 

“Remember when we went to that Nori ball and I snuck away with Matt? It’s because he and Pidge figured out… some things early on and wanted to help. That’s why I went with Matt. To some of the natives,” Keith explained. It was an immense weight off his chest to tell Lance this after hiding it. “I actually… learned a bit of the history. I wanted to tell you, but…” 

“You thought distancing yourself would be better,” Lance finished. Keith nodded. It was here that Lance made a decision. He was going to tell Keith straight out. 

“I’m going to kiss you. Every day. Until you get better,” said Lance. With each pause he got closer, and as the pauses dragged on, Keith felt his pulse slow with time. 

Their eyes locked, and as if approving of what he saw, Lance’s confidence resurged. He kept leaning in before hovering inches away from Keith’s pink-cheeked face. Keith couldn’t feel his body and yet his feelings managed to overwhelm his overgrowing numbness. The drumming of his heart in his ears was so much it almost muted out Lance. 

“Is that okay?” he whispered. Keith could only nod but Lance would have none of it. 

“No, Keith,” said Lance in earnest. “I need you to tell me it’s okay.” 

And with a trembling breath, Keith did. 

Lance closed the distance between them. The moment their mouths connected, fire crackled and erupted from the center of Keith’s heart and spread outward to annihilate the cold completely—for the first time. Keith melted into the softness of his lips. Pale hands came to settle on Lance’s chest and gradually gliding upwards to hook around Lance’s neck against Keith’s conscious will. In response, Lance brought his own hands to brush against Keith’s jaw and tilted his head to deepen the kiss. 

The longing for heat increased with the more warmth Keith received. Each fleeting touch felt like fire. He needed to get closer. He needed more. Dragging his hands up to tug at the silky, brunet locks, Keith let out an accidental whine. Embarrassment brought the flush from his neck up to the tips of his ears. He was about to pull away when Lance hummed in reply and sent sweltering shivers down his spine. 

Lance broke the kiss to press a second, chaste peck to his enflamed cheek. Even after he had pulled away, the spot on Keith’s cheek burned like it had been branded. Keith’s arms fell into his lap as he caught glance of the gleaming smile on Lance’s face. 

“So?” said Lance, breathless. “Did it help?”

The cold attempted to swarm back in without Lance touching him, but the buzz Keith got from that kiss kept him warm. His head was spinning. Keith’s lips parted, his brain-to-mouth filter vanishing in a temporary bout of insanity. 

“You’re really hot,” said Keith. A ‘minor’ freakout ensued. “I-I mean literally. Like temperature. You’re… you’re warm. Not. Not like, hot but genuinely hot—“ 

Keith cut himself off before he could do any more damage, but Lance was already laughing. He knew his face was burning when Lance met his wide-eyed gaze. The brunet grinned, the epitome of childish bliss. It shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was. 

“Someone looks awfully _hot_ and _bothered_ ,” Lance said. The boy had a magnificent way of making Keith switch between drowning in embarrassment, absolute annoyance, and a melted puddle of warmth with a simple wink. 

“I hate you so much right now,” said Keith as he diverted his gaze. 

The quiet returned. However, it was not stilted the way conversations Keith had tended to be. It was a welcome relief, especially after the stunt his mouth just pulled. It gave him time to assess the sudden improvements in his health. His body felt it had spent the expanse of a month in a pod in a mere second, his body and strength recovering to its fullest extent. 

“Mullet, remember when you said you owed me one?” Lance said. His seriousness threw Keith off guard—something Lance could never manage in sparring but always accomplished with words. 

“I _do_ remember you threatening to crush me, if that’s what you meant,” said Keith. 

“It wasn’t,” said Lance. “Anyway, I’ve decided I’m cashing in my favor.” 

“If you say that you want my permission to call it spacethermia one more time I _will_ leave,” said Keith. 

In a wildly unexpected move, Lance took his calloused hands into his own. It was then that Keith realized the effect of other forms of contact had been reignited, warming up the same way they had before. It was a miracle for a variety of reasons. 

“Let me care.” 

“What?” 

“I said let me care,” Lance repeated. “I want you to stop pushing everyone away. And everyone does care, for the record. Including me.” 

The last admission had Lance inhaling sharply, his fingers flexing around Keith’s hands. He let out a shy laugh. Keith couldn’t take his eyes off him—not that he wanted to. 

“I get that we’ve never gotten along that well but it didn’t matter then as much as it matters now,” Lance went on. “Just… could you handle tolerating me until your life isn’t the line? That’s all I ask.” 

Keith did not know how to control all the emotion swelling in his chest, so instead, he tugged Lance in for another kiss. It was a move that had Lance smiling and laughing against his lips as Keith swayed at each of his reactions. It took longer than the first time before Lance pulled away. 

“I guess my amazing speech just _frazil_ ed you out,” he said. 

“What?” Keith asked, dazed. 

“Get it? Frazzled? Frazil ice? It’s a pun?” said Lance. He had the hope of a child opening presents on their birthday. Keith really didn’t want to break it to him. 

“What’s frazil ice?” 

“Come on!” Lance groaned. “I thought you were supposed to be a genius, Mr. Top of My Class. I did _so_ much research with Hunk for these jokes, man.” That was when Keith laughed. 

“You did _research_ so you could make bad puns about my heart cold?” asked Keith. He tampered down the laughter to a slight snigger, but he couldn’t manage more than that. 

“It’s not funny!” Lance shrieked. 

It was pretty funny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translation(s): “Ai Dios, no dejes que lo arruine.” = “God, do not let me ruin this.” I believe?  
> “Mierda.” = essentially, “Shit.”  
> i am far from a fluent spanish speaker, so any corrections are very much appreciated. if something sounds wonky, feel free to give an alternate suggestion for me to switch it with :)  
> edit: thank you so much to those of you helping me out! you guys help me get my shit together 
> 
> as much as i adore the hits and kudos, your comments are what give me life. if you don’t mind taking the time, i’d love to hear from you!  
> i hope you have a wonderful rest of your day <3


	8. Nilas Growth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you’re goddamn right i’m connecting this title to the horrible (frazil ice) pun Lance made last chapter.  
> to keep my summation short, nilas ice forms when frazil ice forms on a calm ocean (as opposed to a rough one), and goes through congelation growth. ~~it’s the calm before the storm y’all~~
> 
> i’m ‘bout to smack you with some fluff. ikr—it’s about damn time.  
> it’s going to cost you tho :)  
> so are you ready my cuties?

Lance left the room on an adrenaline high with his chin held high and a dopey grin on his face. Blush rode high in his cheeks as he walked—skipped, really. Not that he would ever admit that. The frisson of overexcitement pounded in tandem with his heart, promulgating itself against his chest with its sharp, staccato pounding. It hurt and left him breathless in the best of ways. 

After all, he had kissed his ultimate rival and longtime crush Keith Kogane. That’s right; he was self-aware. And painfully so. Despite his blissfully unaware past self’s claims, it was not simple admiration or envy that had him exaggerating his accomplishments and baiting Keith to gain his attention. There had been more to it, hidden in the space between fond looks, names shouted raw mid-battle, and words spoken hushed and personal under the protective haze of two a.m. visits to the observation deck. Lance really had been blind to it. 

That is, until he felt the watchful eyes of the others on his back. It could be summed up to be arched eyebrows and knowing looks thrown his way, mostly courtesy of Hunk, after a particularly obvious interaction with Lance and Keith. Hunk had confronted him in his own way, gentle in coaxing the truth Lance had unintentionally buried deep the moment Keith send his first smile Lance’s way. While the others dismissed some of Lance’s fonder behaviors around Keith, his actions were enough to plant the seed of suspicion. Eventually, it would come out if Lance wasn’t careful. 

So, he learned to overcompensate. Flirting with Allura, Nyma, as well as any remotely feminine alien became routine. Keeping far from any male forms to not arise suspicion, he held his head down and hoped all suspicion would die down. He dialed up the banter and occasional jabbing from a friendly five to a nine when and where he could. He averted his eyes when Keith sought his in a crowded room and conveniently forgot their bonding moments as well as the ones that followed. 

Lance didn’t have a choice. He didn’t want anyone to know, least of all Keith. Nothing would come of Lance’s pitiful crush. The fear of rejection molded his actions with pliant hands, and with each shove, he was pushed in the direction of inhibition and projecting all frustrations inward. So much could go wrong if he even attempted to reckon with the idea of a confession. As melodramatic as it sounded, the universe could be at sake—and for what? His ridiculous feelings? No. All he could hope was that it would pass given time. He could move on. 

Come a few weeks and he was no longer digging himself his own grave. He had dropped the shovel in favor of a drill rig to pummel himself into the nearest planet’s molten core. Then again, he supposed flying into the closet sun would be much less trouble. But he doubted escape pods could handle the ride—and taking Blue was out of the question. 

Lance had, ultimately, resigned himself to admitting his feelings. He couldn’t help but hold out for hope against hope though, waiting for the meaningless crush to pass as they always did. Because, that was all this was. Based on physical attraction and crazy teenage hormones and their proximity in space. Hunk had burst out laughing when Lance had told him this theory but he remained adamant. Otherwise, otherwise… 

No. It was about looks and the fleeting concept of ‘love at first sight.’ It had nothing to do with the overwhelmingly telling glimmer in dark eyes when Lance did something particularly impressive, the unrefined passion and determination behind every action, the slightly lopsided smirk that pulled at the sides of pink lips when he pulled another graceful move in combat, when his complete attention was directed at Lance when his voice dropped to speak of the things close to his heart, or the seldom laughter that slipped through the cracks and seeped past all of Lance’s defenses to leave him wide-eyed and exposed with all of his emotions on full display. 

It was a simple crush, Lance was convinced. 

He was not suppressing his feelings from himself, so how could he be wrong? There was nothing more to it. The absurdity of hope that swelled in his heart when Keith smiled at him a moment too long would not convince him otherwise. Neither would the lingering touches and reassuring pats on the back that were so rare Lance shivered at the thought alone. He would get over it. 

In contempt of all his hard work, here Lance was, grin painfully wide and a bright crimson mantling his face. Sure, he was courting disaster, but kissing Keith? In that simple moment, it was worth it. But Lance would have to tamper down these kinds of reactions if he meant to help Keith. He was here to support Keith, not the exploit the situation. He would only do to Keith what Keith told him to do. 

A mechanical hiss sounded from one of the less used rooms, and Lance jumped back as Hunk exited the pantry, arms cradling a variety of outlandish fruits, grains, vegetables, and a few items that had to be part of some new alien food group Lance wasn’t privy to. Hunk gave him a look. It was not a look Lance needed right now. 

“Back from visiting Keith?” said Hunk, transparent as ever. Lance scrambled to defend himself. 

“That’s not why I’m smiling, okay!” Lance said. Hunk looked over his shoulder as Lance followed him to the kitchen, failing to smother an amused smile. 

“I never said it was,” said Hunk. Lance’s jaw locked in place and he lost his grip on whatever he had planned on saying next. Hunk huffed. “Well?” 

“What?” 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Hunk asked. He placed his armfuls of food down on the countertops, organizing them with a wandering eye. Lance knew what he was really focused on. 

“I…” Lance faltered and debated telling him. “There’s nothing to tell…” 

A sad response. One that was paired with a weak shrug as Lance dropped his gaze to the tile below his feet. Not before he saw Hunk roll his eyes, though. 

“Uh huh, okay. Maybe not some _thing_ to tell,” Hunk said, “but some _one_.” 

“ _Hunk!_ ” Lance whisper-yelled, scandalized. 

While Hunk gave a hearty laugh Lance rushed to check the adjoining halls. Empty. If he was fast, they could have this conversation without it cutting it short because of an unannounced visitor stopping by. He raised a jittery hand to the back of his neck, digging in his fingers as he sighed. Might as well rip off the bandaid. 

“I kissed Keith.” 

“You— _WHAT_?” said Hunk. The drop-off as those three words sunk in had the thin line of Lance’s mouth quivering. Hunk always had the most entertaining reactions. 

“I kissed Keith,” Lance repeated. The words echoed in his ears, unable to ring true with the initial shock still humming around in his mind. He had to bite down a smile. 

“I can’t, you’re—you’re telling me everything. Right now.” 

Lance explained every single detail to Hunk, who ended up ranting to the mice while he baked long after Lance left. He had been so caught up in his retelling that he neglected to remind himself that everything said to the mice was reported back to Allura. The princess told her most trusted advisor in a conversation that was accidentally overheard by Shiro, who picked up bits and pieces as they passed him on their way to the control deck before dinner. That left Shiro to let it slip in a conversation with Matt, who was now one of the two infuriated Holts to be the last on the ship to find out about this development. 

And like _hell_ were they going to let Keith live this down.

* * *

Keith left the infirmary shortly after Lance’s visit. Somehow, in the clipped time frame it took for Keith to go shower, change, and enter the vacated dining hall, everyone had heard about what had happened. How did he know this? It was for two simple reasons. One, along his way he had passed Coran, Allura, and Shiro who had congratulated him on his recovery while Shiro sent a knowing, partially amused look his way. He knew he was in for a talk later. Keith did his best to ignore it along with his heated cheeks as Allura assured him they were still en route to Norvia. Two, he was ambushed when he finally did reach his destination. 

“So, how was your little game of tonsil hockey?” asked Pidge. Her brother was leaning over her, elbows rested on the top of her head as he made sloppy kissy faces at him. 

And if the Holt twins knew something—categorically Matt—then everyone would have heard it by now. They were a smart duo but their sharp tongues meant he was doomed by the time it had reached their ears. The only question remaining was who had told them. After all, Lance was the only other one there, unless Keith had been too high on cloud nine to notice. Regardless, it was too late to attempt any form of rebuttal. Sighing, Keith lifted his hand in defeat. 

“How?” Keith said, muttering out another sigh. “How do you _already_ know?” 

“Let’s see…” said Matt, shimmying away from Pidge to wrap an arm over Keith’s shoulder. “We’ll tell you who told us—” he leaned in before whispering, “—if you tell us how banging Lance was.” 

Keith groaned, a loud and shrill sound, as he shoved away a laughing Matt. There was no use; his face was aflame with a burning red. There was real warmth there, too. Small, almost too little to really notice, but with how accustomed Keith was with the cold lately, it was hard to miss. As humiliating as it was to admit, the warmth probably came from thinking of Lance in that setting alone. 

“I hate you, I’m going to throw you out an airlock. I swear by it,” said Keith, grumbling. 

“But did you really recover from just a kiss?” Pidge asked. Keith hesitated, looking over to her, but at seeing the earnest look in her chestnut eyes, he gave in. 

“…two, actually,” Keith said. 

He ducked his head as the two aw’d and waited for his hair to curtain his beet red expression. As most things went in Keith’s life, it didn’t work. Pidge was short enough that Keith’s face was still visible, and Matt had crouched down so the duo could smirk, laugh, and continue to tease. Dropping his head in his hands, Keith let out an exasperated sound before the two had enough. 

“ _So…_ ” Pidge started, her tone alone warning Keith he was not going to like where this was headed. “Will there be more smooching?” Keith shrugged noncommittally. 

“Do you _want_ there to be more smooching?” Matt said, butting in. 

“Fuck,” Keith said and ran a hand through his hair. “Yes.” 

Keith had spoken without hesitation. It hadn’t been intentional, but it had been the truth. The two let out shocked gasps and choked-off giggles that had Keith swatting at them. 

“Shut _up,_ it’s—it’s _warm._ He’s so _warm_. You guys don’t understand,” said Keith, then growled. Partially at the siblings, but also at his inability to articulate how good it felt to have Lance’s long, lithe fingers on his shivering skin and soft, gentle lips on his own. 

“Sure we don’t,” mocked Pidge. 

“It’s okay, Keith. We get it,” said Matt, nodding seriously. “Seems you’re still a bit tongue-tied from your make-out session with Lance.” 

Well, he wasn’t wrong. The words barely registered in Keith’s head though. At the reminder of their kissing, all Keith could comprehend was how Lance’s embrace was akin to coming home in a blizzard to be hit by the heat of a freshly lit fire and a hot cup of chocolate. Another part of him argued it warmed him the way the Earth’s sun did when he rode in the desert on his hoverbike, all-encompassing and heating him to his very core in a way nothing else could. 

“…is Keith Kogayne in his natural habitat, flustered because a cute boy is giving him some desperately needed attention,” Matt was saying, his voice slowly fading in. Keith blinked away the fuzz, leveling Matt the darkest glare he could muster despite only hearing the last part of what Matt had said. 

“Oh, piss off,” said Keith. 

“That’s it?” Matt said with a grin. “Where did all your witty snark go? Or did Lance suck that out of you too?” 

“That’s not the only thing Lance is sucking,” hummed Pidge. 

“There is nothing going on between us! And there never _will_ be… You guys know this better than anyone,” Keith huffed, making sure to sound more exasperated than he felt. 

“He just… the kissing… is nice,” he trailed off. A new surge of emotions came over him, and he found the words tumbling from his lips. “It’s warm and overwhelming but also comforting and it’s like I can’t get enough even if my body is starting to recover, like it’s… addicting. And I don’t know what to do about it.” 

He came to the abrupt realization that both Pidge and Matt had fallen silent. Keith looked up to see the duo watching him with unreadable expressions. Clearing his throat to disperse the awkwardness, he squared his shoulders and started again. 

“If that was all you guys wanted to say, I’m going to go train before dinner,” Keith said. 

He had time, considering they were having a late dinner today. Keith assumed it was because everyone was so busy worrying over him. And since neither sibling spoke, he turned his back and left into the adjacent hall. If he had chosen to leave through the kitchen, though—he would had a rude awakening. That is, he would have run straight into Lance, who was frozen in place, having heard everything.

* * *

Lance hadn’t meant to spy. Originally, he had been on the look out for Hunk, and assuming he might be baking, he came here. The smell of freshly baked goods rang through the kitchen, but there was no Hunk in sight. That’s when he heard the beginnings of Keith’s conversation. He tried to leave, knowing well this was not his place, but once Matt dropped his name, Lance froze to the spot. 

Now, he was on the edge of hyperventilating with the deluge of new information. Head spinning in an attempt to drain the information through the sieve of his mind to organize and compartmentalize Keith’s words, Lance reached out to brace himself on the wall beside him. His free hand came up to his burning face, his eyes blown wide as he took in the fact that both Matt and Pidge knew, and that eventually everyone else inevitably would too. 

_Fuck,_ Lance thought, faltering in place. _The kissing, I… I need to be really careful, I can’t let this get out of hand. I promised I would only do what I needed to do to help, and… Keith saying there ‘never will be’ anything between us made his feelings pretty clear. I never stood a chance. Hah._

So then why did Lance’s heart want to burst out of the cavity of his chest? 

It was the way Keith spoke of their kiss. Not only did he enjoy kissing Lance, he wanted _more_. It was ridiculous and pathetic, Lance knew. That didn’t stop his fond-stricken mind though. There was barely anything for his mind to mull over, yet here he was, fawning over each word like a newly hatched duck or obsessive puppy with separation anxiety. For all intents and purposes, he was too far gone for this boy. It was terrifying, and it was why Lance would do everything in his power to make sure _Keith_ was happy and okay and safe. He wouldn’t let him make this about himself. 

What cruel hand of fate decided this punishment was appropriate? 

“It’s really a shame that it’s one-sided,” Lance heard Matt say. A cold icicle shot him through the heart, the pang too much to bear. Apparently Matt knew more about Lance than he thought. _Does Keith know?_ “I, for one, think they would be really good together.” 

“You don’t know that,” said Pidge, scoffing. 

_She’s right,_ Lance thought, stumbling. He nearly tripped as he backed away, cursing silently as he went into the hall. But Lance knew better; _Even if there was some impossible reality where I had a chance, I would royally screw it up. There is no way, no universe, where we are good together._

The coast was clear and Lance had space to work through his most recent revelations, and boy, did they hurt. His worst fear had been confirmed. At least, the optimist in him thought, he knew Keith’s feelings without having to go through the embarrassment of confessing his own. It was something that, shockingly, did not help to alleviate his mood. 

_But this isn’t about you,_ he reminded himself. At the beginning of this mess he promised to only do what Keith wanted and give him what he needed. Nothing had changed, Lance reasoned. _Except for whatever hope you had left that he might like you back._ Lance cringed, stopping in the hallway and dropping in head in his hands to exhale a never-ending sigh of pain. 

“Lance?” 

Jolting upright, Lance looked up to see none other than Shiro. He stood a few feet away, a worried expression gnawing at his typical, tired face. It had Lance cursing to himself as he threw on a bright smile. By the way Shiro’s frown deepened, it hadn’t been convincing. 

“Are you all right?” asked Shiro. Lance waved a skittish hand in the air, as if to dispel his anxieties so thick they were taking up physical space. 

“Pfft, of course! Do you realize who you’re talking to here?” said Lance. 

“Lance…” said Shiro, his name a sad condemnation on his leader’s tongue. “I think I know what this is all about.” 

His heart clutched in abject horror as Shiro crossed the distance between them and placed a hand on his shoulder. Great, another monstrosity to throw onto the growing pile of monstrosities that was Lance’s life. Of all the times to receive a Dad Lecture™ this was the worst possible time. And Lance was very much including the time he had been running from Pidge after ‘borrowing’ her headphones and accidentally breaking them (again), unable to escape Shiro before Pidge tackled him to the floor and broke his nose. 

“ _Hmm?_ ” Lance squeaked. His throat had effectively finked out on him. 

“This whole thing with Keith, it’s—“ 

“Yes, yep! That’s right,” Lance said and slinked out from under Shiro’s arm. “I was actually on my way to the kitchen to make Keith a uh, drink.” That didn’t deter Shiro, who nodded. 

“All right,” said Shiro. “I’ll come with.”

Lance smothered another sigh and turned back to the kitchen. He hoped, by now, Matt and Pidge would be off doing their own thing. Since they _apparently_ knew about Lance’s feelings he was had half a mind to avoid a conversation with them if he could. Their incessant teasing would kill given enough time. 

“So, as I was saying,” Shiro said but Lance gave no quarter. 

“I was wondering if you talked to Allura or Coran recently? Is there any updates on the trip back to Norvia?” he asked. Shiro said nothing about his abrupt change of topic. 

“I have,” said Shiro as they turned into the kitchen. “Allura told me we finished the scouting mission. But Coran mentioned we might have to delay it a bit, as space here is a bit more liable to pirate ambushes.” 

“Wait, what?” Lance said. “What does that mean for Keith? We’ll get there before his condition gets worse right? We can’t, I’m… I’ll take Blue if I have to. I don’t care—“ 

“Lance,” Shiro cut into his rambling. 

He hadn’t even realized he had been babbling his worries until Shiro interrupted. Lance turned away to hide the pink on his face. There was a lull in the air as Lance regained his composure. Though he appreciated Shiro’s effort to let him recover, silence in conversations like this kicked off all his nervous tics. He tapped his fingers on the countertop, pretending to look for the cocoa powder. It was on the top drawer left of the fridge, exactly where Lance had put it back the last time. 

“It should only mean a day or two more than we originally anticipated,” Shiro explained. “We aren’t trying to take our time, Lance. We just don’t want to chance a fight that could drain Keith. None of us want to see him relapse like that first time.” 

_They don’t know,_ Lance thought, guilt-ridden at the reminder. _It was my fault. I should’ve been there for him. I should’ve pushed aside my feelings but I didn’t._ That’s _why Keith ended up like that._

It was then that, Lance realized with an agonizing jolt to his heart, he was falling into the same mindset. After hearing Keith’s true feelings, he wanted to pull away. He wanted to run and coil into himself and keep his distance. But he was forgetting one crucial detail. This was for the sake of Keith’s recovery. Lance hadn’t and wouldn’t take advantage of the situation, he cared too much about Keith to do that. Him worrying over that before had been an excuse to fall back, but as long as he controlled himself and accepted his rejection, he could stand by Keith. He could do this. He was going to be the friend Keith deserved and he wouldn’t let his feelings get in the way of that. 

_It’s not about me or my petty feelings,_ he thought. There was no harshness to it this time, though. If anything, the wording reminded him of the reason why he was here in the first place. It had been the same words Keith had said to him that had led him to hanging back as the others went to talk to the elders. It led to Keith falling back too to apologize, and subsequently cursed. It was horrible, but looking back, all Lance wanted to do was laugh. Leave it to the two of them to get into a situation this messed up. 

“I was hoping to run into you, actually,” Shiro said, tone innocent. 

He was back on track all over again. It was a track Lance was very much ready to derail from. If only there was a way to crash the train he was captive in. Attempting to seem casual, he retrieved the jug of milk from the fridge he had milked from Kaltenecker last week. With a flick of his wrist the stove was on and he was heating up a cups worth of milk. He avoided Shiro’s watchful gaze, focusing on not burning the milk. 

“Is that… milk?” Shiro said. Surprised Lance had not been the one to distract Shiro from this conversation, he raised his eyes to meet Shiro’s. 

“…Yes,” Lance replied. 

“You know Keith is lactose intolerant, right?” 

“He… what?” Lance said, blinking blankly. 

“I’ve noticed he’s been drinking a lot of hot chocolate lately but…” Shiro said, shaking his head with a fond smile. “Of course he wouldn’t have told you.” 

“Oh my god,” Lance echoed and looked down at the boiling milk. “Oh _my god_. That idiot.” 

Shiro chuckled. Lance didn’t find the humor in it and moved the heated milk off the stove to mix in the cocoa powder, sugar, vanilla extract, and dash of salt like his mama taught him to. The amount of stomach aches Keith was probably getting! Lance shook his head in outrage, pouring the cocoa into its awaiting cup and topping it with a generous dollop of whipped cream and cinnamon. 

“Next you’re going to tell me he’s allergic to cinnamon,” Lance murmured. Shiro gave him a look that had him groaning. “Are you kidding me, Shiro, really?” 

“Yes, I am,” Shiro said, breaking out in an amused smile. “But I wasn’t kidding about him being lactose intolerant.” 

The easy flow that had been built up between them faltered, and Lance took that as his signal to leave. He couldn’t let Shiro talk to him about what was going on between him and Keith right now. 

“Well. I guess I should get this to Keith then,” he said, blessing the gods for this excuse. As he moved to pick up the cup, Shiro rose a finger to object. 

“Before you go, if you don’t mind—“ _I do. I do mind, Shiro._ “—I wanted to continue what I was saying earlier. About wanting to run into you.” 

“That right?” said Lance. “Needed pointers on skin-care?” 

“Lance.” 

“Because seriously, you guys are missing out.” 

“ _Lance_. Let me finish,” Shiro said, more authoritative now. “I get that what Keith is going through is putting a lot of strain on you too. I wanted to apologize for when I told you to look out for him. I had only been thinking of him then, and I didn’t think to ask you how you’re dealing with this.”

That… wasn’t where Lance thought Shiro was going with this. A pleasant surprise, to be sure, but Lance was still taken aback. He worked his jaw a few times, eyes flickering to and away from Shiro before answering. 

“I appreciate that, but…” Lance hesitated and covered his mistake with a smile. “I’m handling it just fine.” 

Before Shiro could protest he made his way out the door. He didn’t pause in case Shiro got any ideas, speeding down the hall and balancing the cup in his hands. The cup of cocoa that he had made. For Keith. He would have facepalmed if he had a free hand. It hadn’t helped him escape Shiro, and now it was going to lead him straight to Keith. Not one to waste, Lance thought back to the conversation he had picked up on in the kitchen. It hadn’t been necessary though; Lance always knew where to find him.

* * *

Keith envied the Gladiator. No emotion, no hindrances, and analyzing and focused in battle, while Keith let his mind get the better of him. Tripping up in a way that was unlike him, Keith had to end his sparring regime much earlier than he would have liked. Training was supposed to be his respite from his emotional grief. But now images of Lance flashed, blocking out his vision, causing missteps and full-out misses on Keith’s part. The past few minutes could barely qualify as a workout; Keith hadn’t even broken a sweat yet. He was all trips and falls. 

“You’re taking a break? That’s a first.” 

He swiveled in place to face the doorway where Lance stood. Cocoa in hand, the boy had propped himself up against the open frame and wore a teasing smile. Keith had to hit rewind on his mind to replay Lance’s words, having not registered the first time. He had primed a snarky retort when he realized the cocoa was filled to the brim—untouched. 

“Is that for me?” 

Lance rolled his eyes and walked over. He unceremoniously handed over the cup and Keith accepted it with practiced ease. It was tradition by now. The cup was warm to the touch. The corner of Keith’s mouth twitched upward. 

“Keith, you dumb goose.” 

Gaze flying upwards in half shock and half bewilderment, he stared at Lance. When Lance didn’t elaborate, Keith spoke up. 

“What does that even mean?” he asked. 

“I don’t know, but I know it’s accurate,” said Lance. “Also, I could have swapped out the milk for water. Why didn’t you just say so?” 

It clicked in Keith’s mind. _Shiro told him,_ he guessed. He brought up the cup to his lips and took a long sip. He set his features in place and trained a flat expression at Lance. 

“Because water in hot chocolate is two of the nine circles of hell,” Keith paused. “And because I love milk but Shiro never lets me have any.” Lance sniggered at that. 

“Giving you a stomach ache isn’t the only reason I’m here, by the way,” said Lance. Keith’s attention left his cocoa in favor of drowning in ocean blue. He lifted an interested brow in reply. 

“I just… thought you should know,” Lance started, interspersed with odd pauses. Keith wondered if he was struggling to find the proper wording. Lance sighed. “We finished scouting the route to Norvia and still have an all clear from Galra presence. So, we’re heading back to have a _polite_ talk with some of their elders.” 

Keith snorted, quirking up a lip to show his approval. Lance relaxed—had he been tense before?—and smiled back. Shiro would skin them alive if they laid a hand on the elders, but it was nice to pretend. 

“The downside though is that it might be longer than a day trip back,” Lance said. The unintentional look on his face had Lance backtracking in a second. “Don’t worry! It’s better this way. Just another day or two extra. This way we won’t get into any fights with space pirates.” 

“We’re defenders of the universe, why _shouldn’t_ we fight pirates along the way?” he argued. 

“Hey, not my idea,” said Lance and lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “Shiro just worries it might take a toll on you to fight in your condition.” 

“My… my _condition_?” Keith said, voice raising by the second. “I’m not sick! I think I can handle a fucking cold, Lance.” 

“I _know_ you can, mullet,” he said. He wasn’t patronizing or propitiating. Keith could see it in his eyes. His voice didn’t raise to meet Keith’s either, and it had Keith unconsciously coming down to meet his instead. 

“Then why?” Keith said lowly. “Why does everyone keep treating me like I can’t handle simple tasks anymore?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t call an intergalactic war _simple_ , per se, but…” 

“Lance,” growled Keith. 

With no warning whatsoever, two smooth hands planted themselves on the sides of Keith’s face as Lance leaned in. Keith’s heart jumped up to his throat, lodging itself there before dropping straight to the floor. The warmth was immediate and comforting. Keith had to fight from melting into the touch. To his chagrin, Lance didn’t know the impact he had with little gestures like these. 

“We’re just looking out for you. We’re all a family, remember?” Lance said. “And you promised you’d let us care.” 

“I promised I’d let _you_ care,” he corrected. Lance smiled, his fingers twitching against Keith’s cheekbones. 

“Then let me. It’s a slight detour, mullet. I’d hardly call that a reason to get up in arms,” he said before pulling away. “Plus it’ll give me time to show you the presentation I set up with Pidge while you were in the infirmary.” 

“Presentation…?” said Keith, dazed. 

“About why spacethermia is etymologically proven to be a superior name to your atrocious ‘heart cold,’” Lance replied without missing a beat. 

“Wait until you hear mine,” Keith said flatly. “It’s all about how fitting my fist is at decking you in the face.” 

“So _aggressive_. Good thing I know a way to fix that,” he replied. Keith let out a short, sardonic laugh. 

“Is that right?” said Keith, goading him as he took another long sip of his cocoa. “I’m sure Shiro would love to hear your technique.” 

“Simple. Like this.” 

Two fingers came up underneath his chin and pressed up. Lance moved closer until the only thing between them was the uncomfortable shape of the cup pressed in the tight space between them. His face was inches away from Keith’s own, and heat fanned over his mouth when Lance breathed this close. Intense cerulean eyes flicked down to his lips before looking to Keith for permission. 

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Lance said in muted tones. 

Keith would have dropped the cup in his hands if it wasn’t held in place by the push of their chests. His breath trembled as he tried to breathe out a response. Not trusting his voice, he swallowed another breath before trying again. 

“ _Yes_ ,” whispered Keith. 

It was so quiet he wasn’t sure if he had managed to choke out the word. Then Lance broke out into a brilliant smile and dipped his head down. Keith met him halfway, eyes flitting closed as their lips met. It was nothing more than a faint press of chaste lips but it sent a rush of delight up to make his head spin and straight down to his toes. It was woefully short. But then Lance’s hands were dropping down to his chest, lower, until they cupped around the cocoa and brought it up to Keith’s mouth. 

“It’s that easy!” Lance said. He switched back to his usual over exuberant self as if he hadn’t just wrecked Keith’s whole world with a single question. “Sadly, Shiro’s going to have to find a different way to appease your emo rage.” 

Keith needed more time to recover. His body was still tilted forward, primed for a second kiss his mind knew wasn’t coming. Breathing, he realized, was a body function he had forgotten once Lance stepped away. His fingers buzzed around the cup, wanting to do nothing more but reach out and pull Lance in for another kiss. Not receiving a response had Lance stealing a look in his direction. His smile turned smug. 

“You should drink that before it gets cold,” he said. The overhead speakers buzzed alive, the mechanical hiss dropping into the rich octave of Hunk’s voice. 

“Yeh—Uh, hey guys! Coran’s letting me use the speaker system today. Just wanted you all to know dinner’s ready!” 

The loudspeaker crackled and went quiet, signifying Hunk had finished his announcement. The two boys shared glances before Lance extended his hand. Keith tightened his grip around the hot chocolate. 

“Let’s go eat, nerd,” Lance said. He wiggled his fingers in a ridiculous motion that had Keith rolling his eyes, but dropped a hand to take Lance’s. He finished his warm cocoa before they reached the dinning hall, covering the smile on his face with the cup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmm? what? sorry, can’t hear you. there was _definitely_ fluff in this chapter. there was just, also… build up for next chapter. oops :)  
>  more fluff is coMING LEavE mE aLOnE
> 
> anyway! if you’ve enjoyed, feel free to drop a comment below  
> talking to you guys always makes my day <3


	9. Enceladus’ Southern Pole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back at it again w the ridiculously convoluted titles.  
> if you can figure it out it _might_ hint at the end of this chapter…
> 
> enjoy this plush mountain of fluff, my poor, poor children. originally i was going to ease up a bit, but considering the horrors that lie ahead, i decided you deserved this. we have some major plot in this one towards the very end, my friends. brace yourself for the hurricane of exposition that is headed your way

Dinner proceeded normally, with no one batting an eye at Lance and Keith coming in late with intwined hands. They broke apart to eat and Keith ignored the pang underneath his ribs. He was ready to dig in like the others when Lance had nudged him. Turning his head to the side, he came to see one of Hunk’s misshapen baked squares centimeters away from his mouth. 

“Lance, what’re y- _mmh_!”

The square was shoved into his mouth. There was a bread-like texture to it and it tasted better than Keith remembered bread tasting. The leading element to Keith wasn’t the flavor or incredible softness, but the warmth. It tasted like it had just come out of the oven. 

“I knew it! It’s good, isn’t it?” said Lance. 

Keith wanted to deny it, especially with how everyone watched them, but the genuine glee with which Lance had asked had him weak. His cheeks flushed with a nice, rosy hue as he averted his eyes to his lap. He cleared his throat. 

“Yeah…” he murmured. “You did a really good job, Hunk. They taste amazing.” 

“Aw, thanks bud!” Hunk said. 

“See,” said Lance, waving his hands. “This is such a good idea!” 

It really was. Keith hated how the foods Hunk baked were ice cubes on his tongue. Regardless of the fantastic tastes Hunk whipped up, the temperature of food undoubtedly played a huge role. But his pride and self-consciousness restrained him. 

“You’re not feeding me, Lance.” 

“Why not?” he said with a pout. “I do it all the time for my little cousins.” 

“I’m not a child.” 

“Mullet.” 

He looked at him, only to see Lance pushing another pastry into his face. Keith scowled. The other boy didn’t take the hint and kept nudging his sealed lips. Pidge was snorting across from them and he could hear the faint tittering of Matt and Allura. Keith refused to break the thin line of his mouth. 

“Here comes the airplane!” said Lance. He moved the pastry in exaggerated loops before stopping it in front of Keith’s mouth. “NrRrrRrRr—“ 

It wasn’t the theatrics that got to Keith. It was the unwavering determination and serious demeanor with which Lance was doing it that had him covering up a small laugh with a scoff. A mischievous glimmer crossed Lance’s eyes and he’s pulling back. 

“Hey Keith, why don’t dinosaurs talk?” 

Keith shook his head. He wasn’t going to fall for this. It was childish and silly and he was not going to open his mouth. Lance seemed unperturbed by his lack of verbal response. The rest of the table had grown silent, seemingly waiting to see their interaction unfold. 

“Because they’re dead.” 

Completely thrown off guard by the abysmal punchline, he hiccuped a stiff giggle. Without another beat Keith was cracking up at the worst joke he had, without a doubt, ever heard. His chest shook with laughter as some of the others joined in on the ridiculousness before a pastry was being shoved into Keith’s slack mouth. On instinct his jaw came up and he closed his mouth, and Keith belatedly realized he had handed over Lance the win. He grumbled to himself as he chewed. 

The rest of the team shared their laughs and dinner continued much of the same. Lance would tell a joke that couldn’t make Jimmy Fallon laugh and the table would erupt in thunderous hysterics. The cycle continued until Keith had eaten most of the baked goods on his plate. Despite how much Keith was enjoying this, he wouldn’t go easy on Lance. 

“My new thesaurus is terrible,” said Lance. 

“Your limited vocabulary agrees.” 

“Not only that, but it’s also terrible.” 

Matt and Hunk were practically bouncing in their seats, obsessing over the bad jokes like fangirls at a boyband concert. Shiro had brought up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He shook his head, chortling under his breath. Even Allura and Coran, who tended to struggle with grasping human humor, had their share of laughs. 

“I was sitting in traffic the other day.”

“We’re in dead space,” Keith said. 

“’S probably why I got run over,” said Lance with a shrug. Keith groaned, bringing up a gloved hand to cover the smile on his face. 

“What would you call us if we became security guards outside of a Samsung factory?” Lance said. 

“Spare us another lame punchline,” Pidge said, but she was smiling ear to ear. 

“The Guardians of the Galaxy.” 

“Okay, okay!” Keith interjected, biting down his smile. “Enough already.” 

Lance was radiating so much happiness it was blinding to look at. He tilted his head to the side, shooting Keith a lopsided grin. 

“Just one more.” 

“ _One._ ”

“But you have to try to answer it,” said Lance. 

“And if I guess it right?” Keith said and crossed his arms. 

“I’ll stop with the jokes. But when _I_ win,” Lance said. “I’ll stop with the jokes _and_ I get to feed you Hunk’s baked stuff.” He sighed, faking irritation despite the bright smile. He nodded and Lance was off. 

“What’s green and has wheels?” 

The gears in his head turned and Keith’s eyes narrowed at nothingness. He had a guess, but it was more of a swing in the dark than anything. He ignored the eager looks from the others and focused on Lance. 

“The green lion,” he said. His intonation made it sound more like a question but he supposed it kind of was. Lance booped his nose.  
“Nope, it’s grass,” Lance said and Keith gave an incredulous look. “I lied about the wheels.” Keith opened his mouth when Lance popped the final pastry in his mouth, his fingers lingering on Keith’s bottom lip a moment too long. Before Keith could react, Lance was turning back to his own food. 

Dinner had been a ridiculous mess and Keith loved every second of it. The others did too. No one had laughed this much around the table since their food fight the first day they had come together as Voltron. It was moments like these that made the pain he went through to make it here worth it. Keith lost count of how many times he smiled. That was new. 

The team disbanded after dinner to retire for the night. Keith’s hard-won good mood was zapped away within a second’s notice, coming to the baleful realization that he was spending the night with Lance. As much as he wanted to front hating that fact, it was _so_ much better than sleeping alone. The deep-rooted craving for warmth wasn’t his only reason though. He had grown accustomed to Lance’s touches in a way so much faster compared to when they had been fleeting and shy. It was a comfort he wasn’t willing to give up. 

Lance strode up against him, slinking an arm around his waist and drawing him closer. Keith went rigid, years of social isolation and lack of physical affection still holding him firm in place. It didn’t take long for him to relax under the touch. If Lance had noticed his internal contention, he said nothing. It was an appreciated gesture, to be sure. 

The walk was silent. It should be said the air lacked any inkling of discomfort between them, but nonetheless threw Keith off. Oftentimes, it was a miracle getting Lance to shut up—not that Keith minded his ramblings. He had grown quite fond of his babbling; it grounded him in its pleasant familiarity when he needed it most. Someone sticking around long enough for him to grow used to—let alone grow _fond_ of—their foibles. He would never let Lance know about his magnifying soft spot, though. He would never hear the end of the teasing from both him and the others. 

The two paladins rounded the corner to their abutting rooms when Lance came to a standstill in front of him. It was a bit volant, but not so much so that Keith couldn’t stop before bumping into him. He went to throw a questioning glance, perhaps even a half-heated glare, before laying eyes on Lance’s expression. 

“Keith?” he said, muted and somber. 

_Oh,_ was his tone big league. This scale of conversation required a level of social understanding Keith had difficulty mastering in comparison to how easily Lance grasped social cues and subtle hints. There was no way this was going to go well. Lance had even cast aside the use of his absurd nicknames. 

“Are you okay?” he asked Lance. 

_What a lame question,_ a voice sounding suspiciously alike to Lance’s chewed him out. _You know he’s not. You probably did something. You always do. But what was it this time?_ His mind reeled as he scanned his most recent memories in reverse for any explanation. 

“Hey… Keith,” he said. 

The timbre of the words had his head snapping up and meeting Lance’s tender visage. It was a face that had Keith’s heart squeezed and wrung out to dry in the blistering heat of the desert he had lived in before he joined Voltron. Lance directed that look his way only once before—and it was a memory Lance had purportedly lost. A corner of Lance’s mouth flickered up as he held down an amused grin. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” said Lance. Keith blinked in surprise. 

_…Had I been that obvious?_ he wondered. _Could Lance read me that easily before?_

“It’s your nose,” Lance said as if a statement like that made complete sense. 

“I don’t know what that means,” admitted Keith. The other boy stared at him for a moment before registering his confusion. 

“Oh, just like—your nose. It… scrunches up and you get this cu—uh,” Lance stammered, eyes going wide. “Cut _ting_ look in your eyes. You get it when you’re overthinking basic social interaction.” 

“Oh,” said Keith in the most feeble response possible. “Then what is it?” 

“Huh?” he murmured. Lance was stuck recovering from his stutter earlier. Keith didn’t see the weight in his worry over it. 

“What did you want to tell me?” 

“ _Ah!_ ” he exclaimed. Bright cerulean eyes and a brilliant, white smile shone back in response. “About that…” 

Previous jubilation zapped away, Lance reverted to his solemn expression. It was a startling shift that Keith saw on the battlefield and in moments of crisis, not in mundane conversation. He tried to adjust before Lance had a chance to drop another emblematic bombshell on him. Lance brought up a hand to place on the nape of his neck in an uncharacteristic gesture of shyness before continuing. 

“I don’t want you to feel… _uncomfortable,_ ” he said and Keith arched an eyebrow. 

“Why would I be uncomfortable?” said Keith. Lance groaned, running a hand through his hair whilst shoving the other into his pant pocket. 

“You can say no!” Lance said, exasperated to a degree Keith found excessive. Keith crossed his arms over his chest. 

“No to _what,_ Lance?” 

“To all of this! The kissing and hugging and physical… stuff,” Lance said, arms now flailing around in disjointed movements. Keith would have chuckled if he wasn’t bemused with the topic at hand. Lance hardly, if ever, struggled with getting his point across. That was Keith’s Achilles heel, not Lance’s. His voice rose to match Lance’s in an unconscious move. 

“Why would I say ‘no’ to this?” 

“Because! Because…” 

Lance seemed confused himself as to why he was bringing this up. They had an agreement; Keith didn’t see why they were hashing this all over again. _Unless he wants to back out…?_ But that would make no sense, Keith reasoned. Lance wanted to help him, he had been adamant so far and had no reason to have that kind of change of heart. Keith stepped forward and tilted his head, as if a new angle would help him decipher the puzzle of Lance’s ever-evolving expressions. 

“Because?” Keith supplied, though not unkind. 

“Because…” Lance said and slumped forward. With his bowed head, he shielded his expression, decreasing Keith’s already nonexistent ability to read Lance by a landslide. The next words came out barely above a whisper. 

“You didn’t get a choice. You got stuck with me and… I don’t want to screw up and do something you don’t want by accident,” he said. Confidence growing, Lance continued to barrel along with his worries tumbling out in a single breath. “Like what if, what if you’re in one of your emo moods or something and I try to hug you and you don’t want me to? What if I’m asleep and cuddle you too hard and you die? Or what if I kiss you and it’s too much?” 

Keith couldn’t help it. He broke, and laughter pooled out of the cracks as Lance gaped at him. In a swift movement he crossed the distance between them and placed his hands on Lance’s chest. Warmth crackled underneath his fingertips. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” said Keith. Lance’s face crinkled up and it had Keith wanting to kiss him. “The only thing you could do too much of is talk.” 

“I am deeply offended by that.”

“Or you could be deeply _moved_ to the point that you finally shut up for once. Maybe one day you could become a brooding loner like me,” said Keith, teasing. Lance huffed, then snorted a warm puff of air that ruffled Keith’s hair. 

“I will never join the dark side,” said Lance. “No matter how many cute boys they send to seduce me.” 

Keith snorted. His dead-set expression would be convincing, if Keith hadn’t seen it a million times before. The amused shimmer in his eyes gave him away. Keith shook his head in disbelief and smiled, rolling away before Lance caught his wrist. 

“But seriously, okay, how will I know…?” he murmured. Deep blue was glazed over with worry that muddied its usual, captivating depth. 

“Everything you’ve done so far has been fine,” said Keith. Lance let out a low, unconvinced whine. Keith lamented his need for further elaboration, but relented anyway. 

“How about this,” Keith tried. “I’ll tell you if you do something that’s not okay, and if you’re not sure you can just ask beforehand. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Lance said, nodding. “In that case…” 

Tactful fingers tugged at Keith’s wrist once more and he was being tugged into Lance’s room. Keith followed willingly. He rolled his eyes at the way Lance walked backwards so he wouldn’t break eye contact but fought down the compression of heat that swarmed his lungs when Lance smiled. Lance’s past insecurities had been holed back up and his vulnerability stomped down. Now, he shone more brilliantly than any star. They stopped at the edge of the bed and Lance gasped, drawing him in closer. 

“Oh, no! This is even sadder than the state of your mullet!” he said in a way so exaggerated Keith glared at him. “It seems your lips are cold. Allow me to warm them up for you.” 

Lance sent him a wink to complete the pickup line and laughter purled out of Keith before he could stop himself. Keith was undoubtedly making a fool of himself, laughing at phrases that barely qualified as jokes or attempts to flirt, but he didn’t care. He was having fun with Lance, just the two of them, in what felt like ages. Eyes crinkled shut and back hunched over, Keith had to use a hand on Lance’s chest to support himself. 

“You are not smooth _at all,_ Lance McClain,” he said between chortles. “No wonder the only girls you can pick up are the ones that finesse you out of a lion.” 

“ _Hey!_ ” 

“Oh, were you offended?” he said, tone innocent enough, opening his eyes to watch Lance. “How tragic.” 

Lance had parted his mouth that was probably filled with creative insults when Keith pushed forward and pressed a fast and rough kiss onto his lips. He pulled back and smiled, winking like Lance had seconds before. Had Keith ever winked before this? He didn’t think so. He hadn’t had a reason to before now. But seeing Lance flustered and tongue-tied with a blush high on his face was more than reason enough. For once, his impulsive side had not nosedived him into disaster. 

“I shut you up with a simple kiss?” Keith teased. “And here I thought you were a player.” 

“J-Jackass,” Lance stammered under his breath. “Like you could do any better.” 

“Oh, I’d be willing to bet money on it,” said Keith, taunting him. Lance stood up straighter. The implication of a challenge had his ego inflating. 

“I think you mean GAC,” Lance corrected. “And are you sure about that?” 

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. 

“Then prove it.” 

“Hmm,” Keith said, humming to himself as if he was debating it. “Nah.” 

“Wh-You can’t—That’s not fair! You can’t say something like that and not prove it!” said Lance. 

“Sure I can,” he said. “I just did, after all.” 

“Then I don’t believe you!” 

“Okay,” Keith said with an uncaring shrug. 

Lance made a sound between a frustrated groan and a whimper. Keith refused to show his amusement and held his straight face. 

“I mean, maybe I could show you. One day,” said Keith. 

Lance gaped at him, shoulders raised and palms facing Keith in genuine irritation. It was too easy to rile him up sometimes, seriously. Keith let himself laugh again. Hands found purchase on Keith’s hips and twirled him around to flip their positions. Lance pressed forward until the back of Keith’s knees hit the mattress and he tipped backwards. Keith gave an indignant shout before falling back onto the bed, only to be stunned into silence as he looked up to see Lance hovering inches above him. 

“Does this mean I can kiss you back in retaliation?” Lance whispered. 

See, Keith had learned to tune out Lance’s overused pickup lines more and more with each passing day. He had come to learn there was no real intent behind the pet names or flirty touches Lance went about using on everyone. The cheesy lines and lopsided smiles could turn his insides to goo but made his knees tremble no longer. He was able to maintain composure throughout all of Lance’s antics. 

But this. 

There were no wicked grins or corny comments dropped in that last comment. It had peeled away at all the fake clichés Lance used to depict romance and instead had him at his most breathtaking. The eyes that watched Keith were unforgivingly honest and raw and fearless and utterly _gorgeous._ And this. This was a Lance that Keith unraveled completely for. There was no fighting against it, his mind was gone for it. Breath halting in his tightening throat and blood boiling as it pounded in his ears, Keith nodded. 

“Oh, Keith… you should know this by now,” he said. 

The way Lance said his name shot a body-shattering shiver down his spine. Heat fanned out from where Lance straddled him, and the boy leaned down to breathe against the shell of his ear. 

“ _You have to tell me what you want._ ” 

_Christ._

Lance was going to kill him. 

“Kiss me,” Keith said. And _wow,_ he sounded breathless for a dude who had done absolutely nothing but egg another guy on. He expected Lance to either mock him for it or straight-up laugh, so imagine his surprise when Lance did nothing but smile and oblige. 

There was a casualty that night before the two fell asleep.

It was Keith.

* * *

The next day was much of the same. With nothing to do but wait for the Castle of Lions to reach Norvia, Lance and Keith bided their time. Being the first to wake, Keith lingered a minute longer in bed, reveling in the warmth of Lance’s very presence. He breathed out a small sigh of bliss. Lance reacted, despite his unconscious state, and dragged Keith closer. 

Keith knew better than stay much longer than that though, with how undeniable his attraction became as he watched the occasional fluttering of eyelashes against high cheekbones, the way his eyes trailed over the soft curves and sharps dips of Lance’s body, and the way his breath hitched seeing the calm rise and fall of Lance’s toned chest. And— _Shit._

Keith turned his back, careful to disentangle himself from the gangly arms wrapped around his waist. It was too much. While Keith _had_ adjusted to sleeping in the same bed as Lance, certain… new developments led him to backtrack mentally. Apparently, Lance had gotten comfortable where he would sleep. “Uhh, like I always do?” as Lance so eloquently put it. This meant two things. One, Lance no longer wore a shirt to bed. Second, the fibrillation of his heart became so fierce each time Keith made direct skin-on-skin contact he was beginning to think he was developing permanent tachycardia. 

Exhaling a heavy sigh, Keith heaved himself out of bed. Figuring he would after he trained, Keith skipped the shower, brushed his teeth, and pulled on a pair of pants before going to fight the Gladiator. He reckoned training for a few hours alone would not debilitate him; he wanted time to himself to breath and work out his stress. He had been thankful no one bothered him until after he missed breakfast. 

He noticed Lance’s presence a good while before he addressed it. There was no rush to, after all. If Lance really wanted to talk to him, he would have called out. However much Keith denied it notwithstanding, a sectioned out part of him enjoyed the thought of showing off to Lance—if just to see the ephemeral spark of awe in his eyes. It filled him with a kind of pride Keith didn’t know he could hold. 

“End training sequence.” 

The voice that had called out and terminated Keith’s session was not his own. With an upturn of his head, his gaze locked with Lance’s. He made an exasperated gesture using the hand holding his sword, using the other to wipe the beading of sweat off his forehead. Lance stepped forward, cup in hand, obviously not intimidated as he huffed out an amused noise. 

“Your hot chocolate was getting cold,” Lance said. Keith gave him a flat stare, disarming his bayard before swiping the drink. 

“You can warm it up whenever…” grumbled Keith. The other boy gave an indifferent shrug. 

“You’ve been training for hours. Just thank me and move on, schumpkins.” 

“What… the hell does that even mean?” 

Keith looked up from his cocoa, eyeing Lance. The mischievous, upward tick of Lance’s mouth captured his attention, telling him everything he needed to know. He sighed. 

“Would you prefer sugar? Sweet pea? Honey?” said Lance, quick to supply more examples. 

“Oh my god,” Keith said. “You’re so ba—“ 

“Darling? Sugar plum? Angel? Light of my life?” 

“…All those pet names are horrible,” said Keith, ignoring the light, tickling flutter in his heart following each name. Even the dumb ones. _Especially_ the dumb ones. 

“Oh, I’m definitely finding one you like,” Lance said. 

“Uh huh,” Keith said and forced an eye roll. “Good luck with that.” 

After finishing his cocoa and a brisk shower, the two regrouped and spent the rest of their day together. Most of their time amounted to wandering around aimlessly and talking about whatever came to mind. For Lance, it was his family and the vast beaches of Cuba, whereas Keith would throw in a comment about the speed of his hoverbike back on Earth and how it freed him from time to time. 

Lance had picked up on his aversions to certain topics of conversations and steered clear. While Keith appreciated it, he became frustrated when Lance would avoid specific topics outright that Keith _wanted_ to talk about. He just didn’t know how to articulate what he wanted to say, and Lance barreling on to a new topic didn’t help either. He wanted Lance to know he trust him—to open up—but he supposed this was fine too. 

It was difficult to find someone Keith spoke so easily with, considering how taxing he found talking to other people was. Yes, they bickered and taunted one another, but there was no bite to it any more. It had become a branch of discussion to fall back on when their nerves could only be calmed through conversation or when they hit an awkward patch of interaction. Keith knew he should have found it weird, seeing their bickering as a source of comfort, but he just couldn’t. Fortunately, Lance was in the same boat. 

Lance was mid-rant about the time he and his older sister Veronica made a bet. Keith had quite literally facepalmed when he heard what Lance had actually challenged her on—removing a wasp nest on their back porch under the eave of their house. Lance had gone out in the dead of day, when the wasps were more active, without protective gear, and only armed with a fly swatter from the kitchen. Veronica had taken a video. From behind the sliding glass door, of course. Lance was seven and his sister was an absolute menace. 

“She kinda reminds me of Pidge,” mused Lance. “You know, if Pidge was like, three feet taller.” He went on to describe his mother’s swift return home after a call from Veronica and his subsequent trip to the ER. 

“Did you survive?” 

“Wh-What?” Lance said. He narrowed his eyes and searched Keith’s face. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not…” Keith retained his impassive expression. 

“I’m very serious.” 

Lance scoffed, shaking his head slightly. He leaned over, dropping a brief yet soft peck on Keith’s cheek. Keith choked down the squeal or surprise that rose in his throat—he does _not_ squeal—as the fresh wave of warmth made his cheeks glow crimson. It had been simple but effective. 

_Oh,_ Keith thought as he watched Lance shoot him a bright smile, like it was an out of body experience. _That’s right._

Ever since Lance’s promise to him, short and chaste kisses had become the norm for them. And recently, it was even more common. Lance almost always initiated, choosing to do so either by asking or dropping one when Keith was being especially stubborn about the cold. His reaction to Keith initiating did not help even the odds, either. When Keith felt particularly bad he would steal a kiss from Lance. The first time he had done it Lance gaped at him with an unhinged jar and wide eyes of electrified blue. It was a cute look on him. 

“ _Pidge,_ ” a stern voice called from the connecting room. “What did I _just_ say?”

The paladins shared worried looks before chancing ingress. When they entered the closest thing the team had to a living room, they were met with Shiro glaring down at a brazenly smug Pidge. The sight piqued both boys’ interests immediately. From this angle, they could see the reactions of both parties. 

As procedure, Lance dropped his hand. The chill that ran up Keith’s arm was uncomfortable, but not nearly as much as the thought that Lance avoided physical affection in front of the others, despite everyone already knowing their situation. Keith shoved away the thought to hone in on the conversation going on in front of them. 

“Shiro…” said Pidge. Her voice held an air of authority and entertained disapproval. “You should really _respect_ your _elders_.” 

Keith stepped forward and made his presence known. His hesitance was not visible unless those around him knew where to look; his fingers trailed up and down the ceramic. Without something to occupy his hands otherwise, Keith would have reverted to his token habit of rubbing his thumb over his middle and index fingers. Pidge and Shiro looked at him. 

“What’s… going on?” Keith asked. 

He hoped he wasn’t interrupting some deeply personal Dad Shiro Talk™ but by the look Pidge was wearing, he doubted it. Shiro looked ready to protest when Pidge spoke up. She radiated mischievous glee, a mien everyone on the ship learned to avoid by now. 

“Do you guys know when Shiro’s birthday is?” 

“Uh, February twenty-ninth,” said Keith. “Why?” 

Lance stepped up beside him, equally as bemused. Shiro, on the other hand, looked incredibly irritated. It was reaching Slav-is-in-his-presence level of annoyance. He wasn’t _quite_ there yet, though. 

“Do _you know_ what that _means_?” she said, eyes gleaming. Keith remained silent, confused as ever. 

“…he’s old?” Lance said and Shiro made an affronted noise. One corner of Keith’s mouth twitched up. “But what does that have to do with his birthday?” 

“Fuck’s sake, Lance,” Pidge said, snorting. Lance’s eyes lit up as he came to the same realization Keith was. A slow smile spread across Lance’s face. 

“Language!” said Shiro, brows furrowing. 

“Nuh uh, Shiro,” Lance tutted and placed his hands on his hips. “You can’t talk to your elders like that.” 

“I can’t believe Shiro is six years old,” Pidge said to herself. “This is the best day of my life.” 

Keith, who up until now had not involved himself, moved by Shiro. For the sake of being contrarian, and even more so to get under Lance’s skin— _God, is it fun seeing him riled up_ —and annoy him, Keith sided with their leader. On the plus side, it didn’t hurt to be in Shiro’s good graces. Keith shrugged when Lance’s jaw dropped and Pidge mouthed an emphatic ‘traitor’ at him. 

“Last time we ‘respected our elders,’” Keith said, “I ended up getting struck by cursed lightning. And Shiro _isn’t_ actually six.” 

The bickering persisted, building up more so between Lance and Keith, until Shiro broke it up. To punish the trio for their behavior, he ended their period of relaxation prematurely and called a training session. The others griped and groaned; Hunk in particular, who hadn’t been around and said he didn’t deserve this punishment, lamented this development. In response, Shiro had said: “We are a team. We win together, we lose together, and we train together.” Hunk didn’t have an argument for that. 

Keith was grateful for the distraction though. Even when Shiro held him back and checked with him twice to make sure he was stable enough to train with the others. Training gave his mind the chance to clear and focus on simple, wonderful muscle memory. There was no time to think in between the milliseconds of decision-making, no time in hand to hand or in duel against a Gladiator. Yet, his mind did so anyway. 

Even paired up against Hunk to practice dodges and blocks on autopilot, he imagined mesmerizing bright blue and pampered, caramel skin. He thought up the beauty marks and scarred drags against that same skin that Lance was eager to hide; Keith never understood. Ever Lance started sleeping shirtless at night and when Keith had trouble sleeping, Keith would trace those spots with a gentle touch, captivated by the oddities and quirks that made Lance who he was. The pure artistry in the dark speckles and lighter tones of brown from scars that spattered across his body told stories. The one that Lance was most self-conscious about, though, was the cicatrix that took up most of his upper back. 

Lance had told him he hadn’t regretted risking himself for Coran one bit, and that the blemish was more than worth it. Even so, Keith noticed how Lance eyed the scar tissue with disgust in the mirror when he thought Keith was not looking. If only he saw these ‘flaws’ as a beautiful testament to the strength and compassion that Lance had the way Keith did. Keith absolutely adored them. There were moments Keith was on the edge of blurting just that out, too, hating the expression Lance wore when he spotted a new mark. 

_You are beautiful,_ Keith wanted the say with the desperation tearing at his throat. _You’re beautiful and you always will be._

Thoughts like those mottled his cheeks with crimson. He couldn’t handle thinking about Lance like that, let alone say those thoughts aloud. If he tried, Keith bet he would melt into an embarrassed heap on the spot. And in that form he wouldn’t be able to take Lance’s teasing without internally combusting. 

He had worked himself up so much that he didn’t register the kick going straight for his stomach. Keith’s mind snapped into gear as Hunk’s foot connected, and he was thrown meters back. For how soft and amiable Hunk’s personality was, the man could throw a punch. Or in this case, throw a kick. Landing on his back, Keith let out a low groan as his head jolted back to hit the floor. He stared up at the ceiling as the others shouted his name. 

Hunk was by his side first, coddling him like the mother hen he was. Shiro and Pidge followed, as they were closer, and huddled around him. Even Matt had come off from the sidelines to check on him. In the haze of the dull, pulsating pain, Keith saw Lance push the others aside to make a space for himself next to Hunk. 

Keith had to spend the minutes following promising Hunk he was all right and that there was no reason to be worried. After that, Shiro told Keith to spend the rest of the day resting. As a logical human, Shiro had obviously assumed Keith’s heart cold was acting up rather than his raging homosexuality. Albeit Shiro was aware of Keith’s longtime crush, Keith had given no indication that his brief moment of inattentiveness had sprouted because of it. 

Missing training with the others would have been fine. That is, until Shiro sent Lance with him, concerned his condition would become worse without him. Keith sucked down a disgruntled sigh as Lance joined him and took his hand once they were out of sight of the others. Keith shivered at the contact and Lance faltered. 

“Is this okay?” Lance said, raising their joined hands in question. 

_The problem isn’t that I_ don’t _like it, idiot._

“Yes,” he said. 

_This won’t last._ “Are _you_ okay?” said Lance. 

_It doesn’t mean anything._

“Yes,” Keith repeated. 

_I can’t let myself get attached._

“Keith.” 

_I’m just going to get hurt._

“Lance,” he parroted back flatly. 

_I always get hurt._

They had reached the library, having put good distance between the two of them and the rest of the crew, when Lance retracted his hand and spun them around. Embers of heat bloomed from where smooth hands held Keith’s hips, effectively holding him in place. A quiet gasp escaped Keith when they locked eyes. 

“Keith, _talk_ to me,” he said. 

The gravitas with which he spoke had Keith stopping to think. None of his internal anguish was sharable, since most of it was based on or around Lance himself. With a dry, hard swallow, Keith tilted his head away.

“ _Please_ ,” said Lance. 

It was a losing battle. Keith met the other’s poignant gaze, controlling his faltering breath and weak knees. Grasping at straws, Keith tried to find a reasonable explanation for his behavior besides its reality. Frustration slinked past cold, untouched skin and settled deep within bones, fueling Keith’s rash spirit. He knew what he wanted and who to get it from. His object of desire stood right in front of him, so against better judgement, Keith acted. 

Lance was being crowded against the nearest vertical surface, eyes wide with surprise. The boy let out a yelp, dumbstruck at the sudden turn of events, as his back hit the wall. Stunned silence followed once Keith positioned his palm up against the wall, inches from Lance’s face, with the other grabbing a fistful of Lance’s shirt. He stared into the blue and let himself drown. 

“I’m cold. So, I want to kiss you,” said Keith, hushed. A lie and a truth. 

Keith clenched the bundle of fabric in his hand tighter, his shame and irritation egging him on. He was lying to Lance. Despite Lance’s repeated reassurance that this was okay, his gut screamed at the wrongness of it all. This wasn’t what Keith really wanted. He wanted it to _mean_ something. 

“Then kiss me,” Lance whispered back. 

Keith surged forward, their lips connecting roughly and at a strange angle. Neither boy minded, though, and both were quick to adjust, Lance tilting his head and Keith easing back the force. Sparks fizzled and cracked between them, the fire spreading when Lance tugged their bodies together. Keith used the hand closest to Lance’s face to run his knuckles down the side of the face. He took satisfaction from Lance shuddering against his lips. 

Hands left Keith’s hips and dragged upwards and Keith’s breath hitched when nimble fingers brushed across the exposed strip of his midsection. Heat surfaced to meet each point Lance touched. It hadn’t helped that decided to soften the kiss that same moment. Keith made a noise halfway between a content hum and a gasp before he relaxed back into the kiss. 

A familiar mechanical hiss crashed down into their intimate bubble and popped it. The two jumped apart in a violent gesture that caught the attention of the intruder. Red-faced and panting, the boys stared at Coran. 

“Oh, boys!” Coran chirped, then paused. He took in their embarrassed postures and craned his head to the side. 

“Were you two…” said Coran and his eyes lit up in a hopeful revelation. “Are you two playing Olk Junat? Why, I haven’t played that since I was a wee whippersnapper! Would you allow me to join? I’m quite interested to see how you’re playing without a dozen pair of Holoaughers.” 

The paladins shared a stunned look and Lance cleared his throat. There was a devastating large chance that Lance would fumble this chance, but anything was better than the alternative of telling Coran the truth. Keith resigned himself to Lance’s loudmouth abilities. 

“Actually, Coran!” Lance said, his voice a tad too high. “We were just finishing up our game, since we—“

“Wanted to use the library,” Keith finished. It was the first place to come to mind, especially since it was where Coran had come from. Lance gave him a harried side glance but did not protest. 

“Whatever for, my boy?” said Coran. 

“Research,” Lance said while Keith nodded along. “We feel like we’re missing something about this whole heart cold business, so we wanted to come back. We have nothing else to do, anyway!” 

“Ah, good thinking,” Coran said, smiling. “Maybe next time, then!” 

Coran spun on his heel and walked down the hall, disappearing as he turned a left corner. The boys looked at each other, silent for a few moments, before bursting out into laughter. High on the adrenaline of their kiss and nearly being caught, Keith didn’t even care that he punctuated the space between each third and fourth puff of laughter with a soft snort. Lance regained his breath first. 

“Oh-Oh my god!” Lance choked out, wiping at a tear at the corner of his eye and pointing. “You snort!” “I—” _laugh_ “—do _not_ —” _snort_ “—snort!” 

“This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Lance snickered. “I need video evidence.” 

“ _NO!_ ” said Keith, gasping for air. He clutched at his stomach; he didn’t remember laughing being this painful. The lack of air must have been making him delirious. There was no reason for him to be laughing this hard. 

“Mark my words, mullet, I will catch this on film!” 

Although they hadn’t planned it, they did end up spending the rest of their day in the library. There was nothing new to find but Keith kept his head buried in the digital tablets of information. He avoided meeting Lance’s lingering gaze, hoping his outburst of affection towards the blue paladin would be forgotten.

* * *

“Hey, mullet, you asleep?” 

Lance prided himself on his beauty sleep. It gave him solace from the horrors of war, blood-thirsty aliens, and intergalactic travel. Music helped soothe him to sleep when his anxiety and homesickness peaked, but after he broke Pidge’s headphones a while back, he was out of luck. She refused to lend it to him for another week. 

Though, if given the option, Lance would have opted out anyway. After nearly losing Keith to one of his infamous ‘cold spikes,’ Lance tried to stay as close to him as he would allow. Sleeping included. If Keith had a cold spike and called out for Lance, but he couldn’t hear him, Lance wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. So, it was for the better, really. 

But tonight he was struggling. Shiro had found them earlier to say they would reach Norvia tomorrow morning and to not sleep in. Ever since, Lance’s mind was stuck on what would happen after tomorrow. If Keith was cured, would they go back to the way they were? What if the elder girl refused to heal him? What would they do then? Would they just have to stay together, forever? The terrifying part was that Lance wouldn’t mind if his last question was the case. He couldn’t get over Keith if he had to hound him twenty-four/seven just for him to stay _alive._

“No…” muttered Keith. Lance heard the shuffle of sheets behind him and he rolled to face Keith. 

“You thinking about tomorrow?” said Lance. 

“I can’t help it,” Keith admitted in a low voice. “What if she can’t help? What if I’m stuck like this, Lance?” 

For Lance, the answer to that was beyond simple. It was automatic. Before his already pathetic brain-to-mouth filter could kick in he was answering. 

“Then I’ll stay by your side, obviously. I’m not going to just abandon you.” 

A bright, captivating dusting of pink covered Keith’s cheeks and nose, looking absolutely bowled over. It was adorable. And despite how his heart fluttered wildly like a caged hummingbird, he took in the sight with silent delight before sitting up and crawling over Keith to get off the bed. 

“I’m thinking a hot chocolate for you and peanut butter for me,” Lance said. His back was to Keith so he could put a hand over his heart, wishing he could forcibly will it to calm down. 

“Peanut… butter?” 

“Yep! I used to sneak downstairs and snack on it at night when I couldn’t sleep. Sometimes mama or tia would catch me though,” Lance rambled. “They got upset the first few times they found me, but eventually they just got used to it and instead of chastising me would actually ask me what’s wrong. I miss those late night talks a lot.” 

The silence was crushing. Lance ran his hands through his hair, feigning combing it until he heard the creak of the mattress as Keith stood up. Lance assumed Keith approved of his plan and walked over to the bioscanner and pressed his hand to it, opening the door. Without delay, he stepped out and into the hall. 

“Wait.” 

Lance froze. He staggered in place before he did a slow turn to face Keith. Keith looked even worse off, too nervous to even meet his eye. Then Lance noticed his hand. Pale fingers were outstretched far in his direction, a slight tremor to them. All Lance’s panicked echo of worries dissipated as he smiled and took Keith’s hand.

* * *

A loud crash resonated from the kitchen as they stepped inside, leading Keith and Lance to trade startled looks. Hunk was chugging down about half a gallon of water while Coran looked on. Before either could react, Hunk was looking at them. 

“Oh! You guys can’t sleep either?” said Hunk. 

“Nah,” Lance said, waltzing into the kitchen now that he knew Hunk was okay. “What are you two doing?” 

Keith, on the other hand, remained bemused. As Lance moved to grab a jar of peanut butter from the top shelf near the fridge, Keith stared on. 

“Something you humans call the ‘cinnamon challenge,’” said Coran. 

“Wait,” Lance shouted and spun around. “You guys can’t waste that cinnamon! It’s for Keith, and if we run out we won’t have any more.” 

Keith’s heart warmed at the silly prospect of Lance being protective over _cinnamon_ simply because Keith liked it. He had to bite down on his bottom lip to hide his smile. Everyone seemed too preoccupied with Lance’s outburst to notice something so small. 

“Nonense, number three!” said Coran. “We have seven Goradonians full in storage!” 

“Is that… a lot?” said Hunk. 

“Most certainly,” said Coran. 

“Well… fine. But we better not run out,” Lance muttered. 

He turned away to look for a spork—Alteans had the one utensil over the two separate kinds. Once he had grabbed it, he put both the spork and jar to the side and began to gather what he needed for the hot cocoa. Keith pulled his attention away from Lance and looked to Hunk. 

“Can I try?” he asked. 

“Try what?” said Hunk. “The cinnamon challenge?” Keith nodded. 

“I would like to try as well!” Coran added in. 

“Mullet!” Lance said and thwacked the side of Keith’s head as he turned on the stove. “Do you _want_ to die?” 

“I…” said Keith, at a loss for words. He looked to Hunk for input, who huffed.

“He’s exaggerating,” he said. “It just dries your tongue and makes it impossible to swallow, so you start coughing and sometimes choke.” 

“That sounds… dangerous,” Keith said. 

“Count me in!” Coran said, picking up a second, unused spork. Lance snorted and mumbled a ‘mood’ under his breath, which Keith didn’t quite get. If it entertained Lance though, Keith was happy. 

“It’s not that bad as long as you don’t take an exorbitant amount,” Hunk said, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “Trust me, this amount is fine.” 

“In that case, Geronimo!” said Coran, who practically sucked in the sporkful. 

The first few seconds were a bit lackluster, in Keith’s honest opinion. The trio watched Coran, whose face contorted strangely before scrunching up. The next second, the air was filled with brown powder and aggressive coughing. 

“Ewah!” Coran spluttered. “Number f-four, how? This—this flavor! It is disgusting! The aftertaste, I—!” 

Keith crossed his arms over his chest at the nickname, while Hunk and Lance chuckled. His eyes caught on Lance, who was carefully pouring the dark liquid into the cup and topping it with homemade whipped cream. He was getting really quick at preparing it. The concentration and care Lance put into it had Keith dizzy with fondness. 

“I don’t know why you’re surprised that he has horrible taste,” said Lance. Keith watched his lips as he spoke. “Have you seen his hair?” 

Lance held the ceramic cup in his hands and rubbed it, looking up at Keith to grin. Keith rolled his eyes. He was, however, surprised when Hunk jumped to his defense. 

“He doesn’t have horrible taste,” Hunk argued. “He just chooses stuff that’s… special.” 

Keith kept his gaze on Lance even as his eyes dropped to focus on the cocoa. A small smile flickered across his features, one he didn’t notice Hunk pick up on. Coran’s melodious coughing in the background only added to the atmosphere. Really. 

_I suppose Hunk’s right,_ Keith thought indulgently. _I do pick the special ones._

“Again, again!” said Coran, fumbling for his spork. “I would like to try again!” 

“Wha—” Hunk said, bewildered. “I thought you said you hated it?”

“Indeed I did. It’s truly a horrible experience!” Coran said with an egregious smile. “I feel alive!” 

The kitchen went quiet before Hunk began laughing. It was loud but not in a disruptive way, more warm and full-hearted. Lance wasn’t far behind, his wheezing growing as he got closer to Keith. He handed the cup to Keith before winking. Lance didn’t even wait to see the slight blush that rose in his cheeks at— _the bastard_ —before pulling himself up on the counter and crossing his legs to sit. He pulled the peanut butter jar in his lap and started eating as Hunk poured Coran another sporkful of cinnamon powder. 

They didn’t head back to bed for another good hour or so. There was still cinnamon in Coran’s mustache when he bid them goodnight, heading back to do whatever he did at this time of night. Hunk stayed behind, grumbling about having to clean up Coran’s mess. Lance and Keith both offered to help, but he had turned them down. Deep down, Keith was more than ready and willing to go to sleep. It was a first for him, but he was having a lot of those lately.

* * *

The next morning the team gathered on the bridge, coming to a unanimous agreement to touch down planetside and persuade the elder girl to remove her curse. Allura stayed behind with Matt this time, allowing Coran to set up the meeting with the elder. It was a pleasant surprise to everyone that Coran handled diplomacy with such grace, striking up conversation as he followed an assistant to the Nori elders. 

The sea caught Lance’s attention, drawing him to the waves until they lapped at the edge of his boots. Some Nori natives were sprawled across the sand under the clear sky while the younger ones played in the sparkling water. It reminded him of summers with his family in Cuba. The temptation to join them in the water was almost too much to bear. A tentative hand slipped into his own. 

“This is going to work out,” Keith said. 

Lance turned his head to look at Keith. The paladin was looking forward, his eyes glued on the horizon as the sun rose in its shining glory. Lance took in this Keith. His shoulders and muscles were relaxed, but the dark gleam in violet eyes shone with a brighter determination than the sun. The red, orange, pink, and purple backdrop framed Keith’s face and golden rays accentuated and complemented his already sharp features. Lance wanted to reach out and touch him so much it hurt. The display had Lance commiserating with Icarus when he flew too close to the sun before falling into the sea. The difference between them was Lance’s hubris wasn’t what had gotten the best of him. His heart was. 

_Stunning,_ Lance thought. 

When Keith met his gaze, his heart stuttered in his chest and he smiled. He held onto Keith’s hand tighter and was delighted when Keith squeezed back. There was a note of finality to it that made his body ache—the end of an era. Something important was coming to an end, Lance just wasn’t sure what yet. 

“Keith?” said Shiro, and the two broke away from one another. “Sorry to interrupt. I need to borrow you for a moment.” 

Keith looked to Lance, as if expecting something. The cogs in his mind turned and Shiro’s watchful gaze on him only made matters worse. 

“Go get him, cowboy,” said Lance, deciding on shooting him a pair of finger guns. 

Keith grunted but finally returned his smile. He went up the beach to Shiro, leaving Lance alone to his thoughts. Or, at least, he _would_ be alone if he wasn’t being stared at. While he was prone to enjoying the center of attention and being recognized as a paladin of Voltron, this was a rare moment where he wanted nothing more than to be isolated. The Nori citizen continued to look at him then away, hesitating. It was not subtle. Coming to a decision, the Nori woman sauntered up to him, and Lance sighed. 

“Let’s get this over with…” Lance said under his breath. 

“M’pardon,” she said. Worry laced her voice so Lance slapped on an amiable smile, hoping to put the stranger at ease. 

“What can I do for you?” 

“Him,” she said, gesturing to someone behind Lance. It didn’t take long for Lance to figure out she was referring to Keith. 

“What… about him?” he wondered and narrowed his eyes. 

“He’s in such bad shape. I’ve never seen one as bad as him before,” she prattled on. “Has there been no confession?” Lance… didn’t understand what she meant. 

“No confession?” he repeated in question. 

“Yes, you must know the only way for his condition to go away is for his bonded partner to take part in a confession of their love.” 

She spoke in such a matter-of-fact manner, as if her words were common knowledge. Lance blanched. There was no way. 

“Wait, you… so you’re saying that whoever is his counterpart in his… heart cold, that they need to confess? In order for him to get better?” 

The Nori lady nodded and Lance’s heart dissipated into the fucking void. 

“Oh fuck. Oh _fuck_ , no, I can’t,” said Lance in shock. 

He was on the brink of panic. Bringing up his hands up to his face, he breathed in and out erratically, aware that the hands covering his face made it worse. Even so, he couldn’t move his hands away. Keith would never forgive him. He didn’t know before, but he knew now. But he still couldn’t. It would destroy everything they built and Lance would crumple if he was left to deal with the ruins of his mistakes. 

_The girl._

Lance sucked in a breath as his head jolted upright. He could fix this, there was still the elder who had given Keith this curse to begin with. He was going to convince her. There was no need to confess if she took back her stupid heart cold. Taking a moment to compose himself, Lance breathed in and walked up the beach to rejoin the others.

* * *

“I heard you guys are… more _intimate_ lately,” said Shiro. 

When Shiro had pulled him away, Keith had expected a serious conversation. Not an interrogation interspersed with brotherly teasing. Keith scowled. 

“For someone who commends respect, you sure are bad at showing it to your senior figures,” Keith said. Shiro snorted at that. 

“You hardly qualify as an adult, Keith.” 

“We’re in space,” Keith said. “We’re under space rules now, and space rules say I’m an adult.” 

It sounded ridiculous—like something Lance would say. Words that were completely illogical and irrelevant. Shiro seemed to have arrived at the same conclusion and gave him a fond look. 

“You two really are growing on each other…” 

Keith went taut, his shoulders rising defensively as he looked down at the grains of sand below his boots. He kicked at the ground and readied a response. While he worked his jaw, Coran made a miraculous return, calling Shiro and Keith over. Lance had rejoined the group already, making them the last two to return. 

“I have set up a meeting with your magic lass, but she refuses to meet with anyone but Lance and Keith,” explained Coran. Shiro moved to argue but Keith threw a hand across his chest and stopped him. 

“That’s fine,” Keith said. “We can handle this on our own.” 

After a bit more opposition from Shiro and a lot of concern on Hunk’s end, Keith and Lance entered the cave on their own. She was just a girl, he reasoned. Had she not already done her worst? Keith couldn’t imagine the situation deteriorating past the point they were at. 

The faint sound of dripping echoed off the uneven cave walls. Natural light waned before petering out entirely, replaced by ethereal torches lit with blue fire. As they stepped in the half-dome at the end of the expanse of cave, the torches were replaced with the cave’s centerpiece: a bioluminescent pool of water. All four cushions were empty save for one, where the familiar, petite form of the girl sat. 

“You have come back, yet you haven’t completed your mission,” she hummed. 

Her voice bounced off the walls and sounded as if it came from everywhere at once. It was unnerving. By the way Lance reached for his hand, they were on the same page. 

“We don’t understand what you want from us,” Keith spoke bluntly. “We—I… I just want to be back to normal again.” 

“How do you expect us to protect your planet, let alone the entire universe, if you make two of the five of us completely codependent!” Lance snapped. 

Keith was thunderstruck at the sudden burst of aggression. He knew their situation was not ideal, but had being stuck with him been that harrowing for Lance? Keith frowned and watched the ire distort and harden Lance’s countenance. 

“The paladin of fire struggles to deal with his issues with the cold of ice,” said the elder. A melodious tinkle of bells, laughter, erupted from the girl. “Ironic, isn’t it?” 

“This isn’t a joke,” said Lance, tone bitter. 

The elder’s laughter cut off and was replaced by a scathing silence. With the dim lighting from the pool and the dark hood the girl wore, it was near impossible to read her. Even her general demeanor gave nothing away. There was nothing to analyze and plan for, forcing Keith to wait. And Keith hated waiting. 

“I won’t lie to you, paladin Keith,” the elder said. She had grown solemn once more. “I had hoped you could be the one to free us from our own curse—our own enemy.” 

“So you thought putting a curse on me was the right way to go with it?” retorted Keith. So far, he was thoroughly unimpressed. 

“I thought you would understand, as I saw the same pain and fear in your heart,” she said in earnest. She must have seen Keith’s expression, as she went on. “The loss and fear of loss of a loved one is a tough thing indeed.” 

He stiffened and prayed it went unnoticed by Lance. From previous experience, though, he wouldn’t be so lucky. The elder continued. 

“But, perhaps I misjudged you… giving you this mission,” she admitted. “My gift was meant to guide you, but it has only brought more pain, it seems.” 

More and more questions sprung forth and swirled in Keith’s brain the longer the elder spoke. Certain portions didn’t add up with his understanding of the situation, only serving to make him more confused. Lance was quiet beside him and Keith guessed was probably in a similar dazed state. There was too much to ask, it overwhelmed him. He didn’t know where to start. 

“So. You need not complete your mission. Our alliance can commence and I will take back my gift,” she said, though she sounded rather reluctant. “We will handle them on our own.” 

“Who’s them…?” Lance said. 

“That no longer concerns you,” she said and stood up. She held out her hand, palm up, and gestured to the water below her. “Keith, step forward, at the edge of the pool—but do not enter.” 

Keith obliged, eager to rid himself of the curse that had plagued him for so long. He stepped forward and let go of Lance’s hand in the process, the distance too much between them to continue holding on. A shame, to be sure, but it couldn’t be helped. 

“And you are certain this is what your heart desires?” 

“Yes,” Keith answered her without hesitance. 

“Okay,” she sighed, “I understand.” 

She kneeled before the water and muttered something under her breath. It had the cadence of an incantation or some sort of song. For the first time since Keith had known her, she pulled back her hood and revealed her face. She looked like an Altean, her markings neon with ice blue but curving and carving out swirls across her whole face and down below her collarbone. Her skin and hair were so pale Keith wondered if it was from sickness or simply her natural state. 

The elder let her inky eyes fall shut, cupping her hands and lowering them into the glowing pool. She was kneeled diametrically opposed to Keith across the water in a way that had to be ritualistic. She had not stopped speaking since she had first knelt down and that in and of itself was eerie. A horrible thought crossed his mind at the possibility that this ceremony was not meant to help. 

But there was no time to dwell on the thought. A high-pitched siren sounded from outside, ear-splitting, repetitive, and incredibly annoying. Keith instantly brought his hands to his ears, swiveling in place to catch Lance’s eye. The violent sound of spaceships strafing was as familiar as it was sickening. There was hardly time to react as another round of blitzing took place, this time with bombs. 

_Whoever they are, they can’t be Galra,_ Keith reasoned. They had gotten the all-clear just that morning, and these aerial techniques were unlike typical Galra ones. Galra used foot soldiers to conquer planets like this, where there was no need for such brutal attacks. 

Keith tried to move, but the ground shook underneath him and his knees buckled. The attacks were getting closer. Only when his knees hit the ground did he remember they were armor-less. Keith cursed under his breath, grateful for at least having his bayard. He knew better, they all did. 

“Keith!” he had heard Lance shout. 

His gaze flew up to the blue paladin in horrified alarm. Another air drop sounded, the explosion so close it left a painful ringing in his ears. He saw Lance’s lips move but couldn’t make out a single word. Lance had somehow made it beside him in the chaos, crouching down just in time for another bomb. It was a direct hit to the above-ground cave system and both Lance and Keith ducked, bringing themselves closer to the damp floor. The cave had begun to collapse around them. Amidst the heavy laser-fire and bombing, Keith blacked out. 

Horrible timing, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so just in case,  
> here’s a quick explanation on the title:  
> Enceladus is one of Saturn’s moons, and at its southern pole there are these cool as shit geysers that are basically cryovolcanoes, a.k.a. ice volcanoes. they form when ice is heated up below the volcano’s surface and turns into a vapor, rising up and erupting as ice particles into the atmosphere. oof that was a mouthful. 
> 
> how does all ^ that ^ relate to this chapter? because everything is erupting in their faces, but the situation can’t really be ‘heating up’ because Keith is gonna freeze to death if they don’t find a solution and get help soon :)  
>  ~~shut up it makes sense let me have this~~
> 
> feel free to drop a comment below!  
> love you all  
> <3


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